Love Me Roughly
by Gilly B
Summary: What can you do when the entire world seems to be against you? Fighting with all their might, two who had met so long ago might just fill their lonliness with love. Luck is not on their side as they fight General Winter and his latest evil deeds. Will they survive the battle? Will anyone make it out alive? RusAme, sequel to Love Me Forever.
1. Prelude

PLEASE DON'T HURT ME. Anyway... I'm really sorry! It's been a while since I updated and yeah... School, you know? Anyway... I hope I can get back on track with these stories.

WARNINGS: Angst. :D Eventual RusAme

Disclaimer: blah blah blah

* * *

It happened in the dark. The tears, the pain. An ego that never really existed was shattered in the black, as a young boy cried himself to sleep. They never realize that they can either make or break a person. In this case, a young boy was broken, perhaps beyond repair. A family, a place to belong, all he ever wanted, and all that he thought he had. Three words, four syllables, paralyzing him, licking at the edges and always pushed away.

"_Nobody likes you."_

The words were never said, never spoken aloud by anyone, but they existed. He had always been a more vulnerable boy than he'd like to lead on. His little brother Matthew was the one he had to look out for, protect. He was the Hero, and Heroes couldn't cry or feel. They had to be strong, and so he was. But deep down, behind all the smiles, behind all the laughter, there was pain and there was fear.

"_Nobody likes you."_

There was nothing wrong with his life. He had two fathers, but that never really bothered him. He was even openly gay in a small southern town. But that didn't matter. He had a caring brother and caring fathers and caring uncles and caring friends. But they didn't matter when it came to it. Deep down, he felt unloved. Like every thing they said that held love, was a fake sentiment. And…

"_Nobody likes you."_

It was in their exasperated smiles, the annoyed frowns, the sighs of resentment. He always had the creeping feeling that he wasn't wanted. That he didn't belong. That… nobody liked him. So he tried his damnedest to make them like him. Every little thing, trying out for football when he really loved science, joining the Theater when he found he couldn't play, smiling despite the pain day in and day out, laughing at jokes when no one else would, it was all for them. Not for him. For a small time, he was mister popular, just a little sophomore in drama club and everyone loved him. But then, it all came crashing down.

"_Nobody likes you."_

He had made a fool of himself. Or so he saw through his perspective. At the time, he hadn't come out of the closet. His brother knew, but his brother knew everything. What was he supposed to say to a pretty girl? She genuinely liked him and all he could do was stare in shock, stuttered protests already falling about. He couldn't like her back, and a Hero never leads a lady on. "I'm sorry. I can't. I'm gay." He walked away, and that was when they shunned him.

"_Nobody likes you."_

"Alfred's a..."

"…broke her heart."

"...making excuses."

"The jerk…"

"…had to lie to her…"

"…not even really gay…"

He never let it show. The words got to him. The stuck with him. Torturing him, deep down. Words whispered on the edge, tainting him. _"Nobody likes you. Nobody likes you. Nobody likes you."_ Now, on his own and looking for a place in this big wide world, the words have never seemed so potent. They were constantly snapping at him, at the forefront of his mind. He was from a friendly town, and the icy stares he earned from the city-goers were sending him over the edge. He had no brother to comfort him, no friends to laugh the pain away. No family to run to. Alone. In the city. Just a regular, down on his luck college student, looking for a place to be.

"_Nobody likes you."_

Alone.

* * *

Kinda short, but it's just the Prelude~!

Song for this chapter: Mad World by Gary Jules

Tell me watcha think!

~Gilly B.


	2. Nas Ne Dagoniat

_Hey you guys~!_

DON'T HURT MEEEEEEEEE~ D: I'm sorry it's taken so long. But first I lost inspiration, then I had a buttload of work to do for school. AND NOW I'M FREEEEEEE~! SCHOOOOOOL'S OUT. FOR. SUMMER~ Okay, but anyway. If you're expecting an update next week. I'm sorry. I'M GOIN TO EFFIN DISNEYWORLD. Ahem. TEN MORE HOURS TILL WE LEAVE. But that's not the point. The point is that I have months of nothing to do. So that means I might just write a lot.

Yeah.

Disclaimer: NOT MINE. RAWR.

WARNINGS: Stuff.

* * *

_The hysteria. The intense fear coursing through his veins, demanding that he run, countered by the heavy terror that couldn't. His body was too tired to move, sleep was pulling at his eyelids. Forcing him to rest. The indescribable feeling of wanting nothing more than to get up and turn the lights on, but his body refused to move. He could only glimpse the surrounding darkness as he fell asleep. He wanted to run, he wanted to scream. The adrenalin was only enough to keep him awake for seconds. He needed to sleep, he wanted to sleep, but every little thump, every little shadow, sent him back into overdrive and thrust his mind back into the world of fear. He could only lay there and take it, waiting for the moment his eyes would fall back, waiting for the fear to dissipate._

_This is how he sleeps, or more, how he doesn't. No prayers, no milk, no lullaby or bed time story. Only the fear, only the terror, only…_

_"Spi, mladenets moi prekrasnyi, Bayushki-bayu."_

_The sick and twisted inner workings of his mind conjured the old lullaby back to him. The sweet words whispered to him on dark nights like this. Through the dying lips of his mother. One would think that it would calm him down, but it only worked to make the horror of the darkness solidify._

_"Ty zh dremli, zakryvshi glazki, Bayushki-bayu."_

_His heart rate increased to a level he didn't think possible, but he had since grown used to that. His eyes opened to the soft grass around him. He had breached new territory. He had run so far and never looked back. Wind ruffled his hair as he lay in his own bed of terror. He was paralyzed. He heard crickets chirp and frogs croak, foreign, but comforting none the less in the face of such monsters. The crickets stopped. The frogs stopped. His heart stopped. Silence reigned and the fear stayed strong, growing heavier, like a stone wedged into his chest. Then a voice floated to him in the dark._

_"Big brother..."_

* * *

Ivan bolted from his dream, body tense and muscles tight in preparation for a fight. There was nothing, however, poised to attack. He relaxed a bit, eyes still shifting across the dark hotel room. He sighed and let a shudder run through his body as he remembered where he was. New York. New York, New York. The cursed city where this all began. A place where he could barely tell the difference between memory and nightmare. But he was here to do a job. If he wanted to protection and power, he had to climb ranks, and to climb ranks, he had to play dirty. He was here to take out a hit ordered by the boss. He was also here to welcome in a friend of the boss' grandsons. If only he could find him...

He didn't have to start his search or find the target until later, he would rest for a while. Ivan lay back on the bed, face set in an unreadable expression. Tomorrow he would take out the hit. Tomorrow he would climb the ranks. And perhaps, tomorrow, he could find that missing sunflower.

* * *

Alfred was lost and confused. But, then again, when was he not? He wanted to be a hero. Somebody's hero. And with the way he wanted to do that, he had to get a better education. And to get that better education, he had to find the damn college! He was looking around helplessly, searching for campus when he smacked into a wall. A very comfy wall. Did wall's generally say "oomph" after being smacked into?

"Please to be watching where you are going."

Alfred looked up from the comfy wall to stare into bloodthirsty lilac eyes. Eyes that seemed vaguely familiar. Alfred shook the thought away and stepped back.

"Oh, uh, sorry dude. I wasn't looking."

"Be more careful next time, Da? You could die on accident, and would that not be a shame?"

Alfred wasn't sure if that was an insult or what. But he wasn't going to question it. The scary, tall, and probably Russian man didn't look like the nice type if person. He did look, however, hot. Really hot. And not the temperature kind. And there was that certain familiar spark in those lilac eyes.

"Oh, yeah. Sorry dude. Oh! Hey!" The Russian man had started to walk off, but Alfred didn't want him to go. He was the first person to talk to him in this big empty city and he needed to get to school dammit!

"Da?" When those intense eyes turned to him, he almost lost his nerve. But Alfred continued anyway.

"Do you, by any chance, know how to get to the university around here?"

The Russian's lip twitched! In an upward motion! That was almost a smile, right?

"Da."

Alfred smiled up at the man. "Do ya think you could point me in the right direction, big guy?"

Now he was just being cocky. The Russian's eyebrow quirked, before he slowly nodded.

"Perhaps. Introductions first. It is very rude to be guiding a stranger halfway across the city, yes?"

"Halfway? I'm really _that_ far off? Jeez!"

Another lip twitch! Alfred could do a happy dance... if it weren't for the fact that the university was probably on the _other side_ of the city.

"Nyet. It was a joke. But introductions are still in order. My name is Ivan Braginsky. Pleased to meet you."

"Haha. That's not very funny dude! I'm the hero! Alfred F. Jones!"

The Russian looked startled for a minute before a dark look crossed his face. Alfred stepped back a little.

"H-hey, um..."

"You are Alfred F. Jones?"

"Yeah..."

"Come with me please. Orders from the boss."

* * *

Ooooh, cliffhanger~! :D

Song used: Not Gonna Get Us by t.A.T.u

Um, anyway. I LOVE YOU GUYS PLEASE DON'T HURT ME OVER THE INTERWEBS.

Do svidanya~

Gilly B.


	3. This Ain't A Scene

Blah, blah, blah

Alright, so... umm. I was kinda presented with the ever annoying writers block! So please bear with me, I didn't mean to take this long with the chapter. Let's just say I have personal issues and I had written plenty of this chapter but hadn't finished it and then Father's Day hit and I didn't want to do _anything_. But, anyway, personal issues and all that. And now Doc Manager is starting to piss me off!

Okaaaaay, on with the show!

Disclaimers: *glare*

Warnings: Cursing, mobsterness...

* * *

_"You are Alfred F. Jones?"_

_"Yeah..."_

_"Come with me please. Orders from the boss."_

Alfred was on the verge of panicking. _Orders from the boss...?_ Alfred looked the Russian up and down. They were still standing on the side of the street, Alfred standing stock still and Ivan raising an impatient brow. _Russian... boss... Shit!_ Alfred really started panicking. Flashbacks to that time when he was a child. A tall man. Pain. A strange language... _Russian._ The Russian mafia was after him. Still after him! Alfred's eyes widened slightly as he realized what Ivan was probably sent out to do, never mind those painfully familiar lilac eyes. There was no time to think. He turned his head in both directions, looking across the road to the other side, where the sidewalk was busier. _Hope I don't die because of this... that would suck._

Then he ran.

* * *

Ivan could only stand in shock before he realized what happened. His target... had run away? Anger took over him as his feet moved to follow the sprinting American. This Mr. Jones was going to cause him to fail and Ivan Braginsky was not allowed to fail.

"MR. JONES!"

The American didn't look back. Ivan nearly stopped in surprise as the blond jumped head first into traffic, weaving around cars and even leaping clear over one when it threatened to hit him. Ivan growled in frustration, feet still safely planted on the sidewalk, as his target slipped through his fingers. He would catch the stupid American, even if it killed him.

* * *

As Ivan continued to glare at his back, Alfred took a chance to look back and sent a cheeky grin to the Russian that was left behind. When Alfred felt the glare intensify, he stuck his tongue out and gave Ivan the finger before turning down an alley.

* * *

Ivan was very upset. Very upset indeed. The little brat had the audacity to run away? Oh, Ivan would get him. Get him good. He would have to talk with the boss first. Find out where Mr. Jones was staying and resolve this problem. But first... he had other business to attend to. His malicious smile scared the pedestrians he passed as he walked down the street. He was going to have some fun.

* * *

"Ha ha! Take that communism!"

Alfred fist-pumped into the air as he ducked back into the street to find Ivan walking the other way. _America wins again! Whoo!_ Alfred smirked at his own thoughts as swaggered down the sidewalk. _This is like the cold war, baby, and everyone knows America won that one. _It was when he had to make the decision of which street to take when a tiny, unimportant, little thought reared its ugly head.

"I still don't know where the school is, dammit!"

* * *

"Did you get it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good job! It's always good to see you finish work successfully!"

Ivan was still a little unnerved when the boss praised him like that. That big goofy smile and unnecessary happiness. Ivan didn't get how _this guy_, Roma Vargas, possibly the most cheerful person on the planet, could be the head of the Italian mafia. It made _no_ sense. But Ivan wouldn't question it, out loud at least. Ivan held out the delicate black box and the boss took it with another smile. His smile brightened when he found what he was looking for inside. A single, bloody, finger. There was a ring around it, with a very clear insignia. It was a message.

"Thank you, Ivan. You can rest for tonight."

"Sir, I do have a question..."

"Yes?"

"It's about my other target..."

* * *

Alfred collapsed against the brick wall behind him. He had gone in circles again. The feeling of desperation had long since welled up and flowed out, leaving him barren. He felt like a failure, the one people had called him back home. Before... He hadn't believed them. Before, he was able to pick himself up and dust himself off. He was able to get past it with the help of his family, his friends, and his teachers. But... Lost in this big, unfamiliar city... There was no one to help. No forest trail to follow that could help him clear his thoughts. There was no sun. Alfred lifted his desolate eyes to the cloudy sky. That feeling filled him again.

_Nobody likes you._

Torturous words whispered in his ears. He squeezed his eyelids shut against to oncoming pain. He was a hero, dammit! He wasn't about to cry in public! Especially in these unforgiving streets. He pulled in a breath to tame the pain tingling in his wrists, enticing him to slice and let the pain flow out. But he never fell into temptation. His fingers tightened in a fist, his knuckles turning white. He would be strong. Forget fucking class today. He had already missed half the day, wondering the city. It was best to just head home in shame. That feeling stirred again as he marched down the dirty streets, eyes red-rimmed and chin held high in desperation.

_Nobody likes you._

"Of course they don't." Alfred whispered to himself as he found himself in front of the door to his new run-down, lonely, apartment. He slammed the door behind himself with finality, as if finally settling an argument.

* * *

Later that night, Alfred sleepily awoke to a knock on his door. Not even bothering to look through the peephole, Alfred slowly opened the door with a disgruntled yawn. Before he could even rudely ask who was there, he instantly regretted opening the door, as an accented voice crooned to him.

"I found you..."

* * *

Song: This Ain't A Scene by Fall Out Boy

:D

~Gilly B.


	4. Hara Mamburu

:D FASTER UPDATE~! Yay time! Okay, anyway. My nephews pulled me out of writers block! Painfully! D: No really. They chased me all over our mountain trails! And then my step-brother brought out the fourwheeler! I WAS RUNNING FOR MY LIFE! *ahem*

Anyway... LOVE~!

Disclaimer: Bleeeeeeegh.

Warnings: Um. You see a glimpse of what I like to call southern!Alfred, there are long paragraphs about feeeeeeeeelings~, and the plot doesn't really advance at all!

* * *

"I've found you..."

Panic crippled him as Alfred stared into those familiar lilac eyes that spelled death. He was ensnared by the friendly smile that was pulled tight across the Russian man's lips. Alfred gulped and for once decided to calm down before running head first into action. What did this Braginsky guy want? Find that out first, Alfred, and maybe you'll get somewhere.

"Braginsky."

Smile still cracked, Ivan replied, "Are you ready to stop acting as a petulant child?"

That stung a bit. "No." Alfred wasn't going to give up without annoying the other first.

The smile darkened. "Then you leave me no choice." Ivan was quick as he snatched Alfred's arm and yanked him into the hallway, giving Alfred almost no time to react. As his door slammed shut behind him, Alfred's sense caught up with Ivan's and grabbed the hand that held his arm in a vice grip. Ivan's brows shot up in surprise as the slight American actually had the strength to stop him.

"I need questions answered before we get this show on the road." Alfred growled as he twisted in Ivan's grip and released himself.

"Be my guest." Alfred was very much starting to dislike the Russian's snide tone, not to mention his not-really-friendly-at-all friendly smile, and creepy aura.

"I will not be led to my death. What, exactly, were your boss's orders?" Alfred glared at the taller man as he simply raised a brow before answering.

"To bring you to the boss." Ivan was trying very much to be patient with the American but it was almost impossible, as Ivan was slightly nervous around those familiar sky-blue eyes and was on edge in the dimly lit hallway, who know what or _whom_ could be lurking around the corner.

"And _who_ is your boss?" Alfred grit his teeth in impatience. If the Russian gave him the wrong answer, he was prepared to fight tooth and nail to get away.

Ivan cast a glance down the hallway before softly breathing out the name. "Don Vargas."

Alfred's muscles tensed before relaxing completely. He started to laugh in relief as the name Vargas finally registered.

"Oh God! I thought you were here to kill me! I totally thought I was gonna have to run! Ha ha! But, but, you were sent by Grandpa Roma? Oh my God! Ha!"

Ivan stood there, nonplussed, as the American laughed a bit too loudly. The laugh, for some odd reason, calmed him just a bit and it pissed him off!

Ivan sighed before rubbing his temples, "Let me finish my mission, Da? The Don wishes to make sure you are safe. He wishes to see your presence."

Alfred smiled, relieved. "Then let's giddy on up, big fella!"

* * *

Alfred kicked his feet back and forth restlessly in the taxi. Ivan crossed his arms. Alfred had an amicable smile plastered across his face. Ivan scowled. Alfred was nervous, relieved, anxious, curious, and mildly upset all at the same time. Ivan was annoyed.

Alfred decided it was best to stare out at the city lights instead of the very handsome Russian man that was very irritated that sat beside him. He just couldn't help but think that there was something familiar about him. It brought back vague memories. Memories of a darker time that he could barely recall. Although there was something comforting about Ivan's lilac eyes, he couldn't help but feel extremely uncomfortable around Ivan. He was usually a very confident person, despite his numerous insecurities, but he just couldn't do anything but squirm and blush when he thought about how hot Ivan was. Nor could he do anything but flinch when those eyes brought back painful memories.

His eyes tore from the glittering lights and flashing signs to stare dejectedly at his fingers, smile slipping into a frown. He remembered those needles. The pain. The scars and the beatings. His fingers clenched into a fist. He was toned, sure, and he was muscular in a thin kind of way, but he wasn't weak. They said he was though. The bullies at school would target him, mostly because they couldn't stand how cheerful he was and they thought he didn't have the strength to fight back. But he did. All because of those needles. That pain. He never once fought back. He was afraid he would hurt someone. He did once... Matthew, his little twin brother. It had been an accident. But there had been so much blood... He was supposed to be the hero! He hurt the people he was trying to protect. He was a monster. He was a failure. Nobody could love him. Nobody could _like_ him. Alfred brought a hand up to the window and pressed himself closer to the door.

Ivan was almost concerned when the other's annoying kicking stopped. Almost. He was a bit too pissed at the American to be concerned. It was his job to find Alfred and he made it difficult enough and then the other laughed at him! Laughed for doing his job! A job he very much needed to do right. If he had failed... Don Vargas may be forgiving, but Ivan would lose credit. And he couldn't afford that. Ivan's scowl lessened just a tad as he glanced over and noticed the other's posture. Small and desolate. There was something that was seriously bothering the blonde. Jones had looked like this before, when Ivan had spotted him among the crowd. It had been a brief glance, as then Jones had just been another stranger. He had seemed so lost. Not just directionally, but emotionally. Then, a few moments later, he had felt a bump against his chest, only to find the lost looking sunny blonde had run into him. The look of confusion on the other's face had almost been... cute.

Even now, the other was, for lack of a better word, cute. Like a lost puppy. Jones was a handsome young man, a young adult fresh from high school ready to take on college. But the look he held when lost made him seem so much younger. But these were all times when he thought no one was looking. Almost rare. After the confusion had cleared, a bright smile that almost took Ivan's breath away had graced the other's face. It had been genuine. Not like the smile he had used when they had first entered the taxi. Jones stood straight and tall, confident. He had hidden strength. Ivan let his head fall back against the seat. Alfred F. Jones was a very perplexing man.

Ivan sighed and shook his head from such thoughts. He had to be ready and prepared. What if the enemy spotted them in the taxi? He was low enough on the chain to be replaceable, but high enough to be recognized and considered a threat. They _were_ in the Chinese territory after all. They wouldn't know the importance of Jones and would therefore gun him down without a thought. This bothered Ivan for some odd reason.

Finally, to the relief of both men, the taxi arrived at their destination.

* * *

Song: Haru Mamburu by Nogu Svelo

:D Soooooo... Any questions? Alright. Some notes then...

:| I changed the song and thus the title of the last chapter. Just sayin.

Southern!Alfred- America is almost always depicted as an American from the north, specifically the east coast. Occasionally, he'll have the little tick that when he gets nervous, upset, frustrated, angry, ect. then he'll slip into a southern accent. I'm perfectly fine with that. It makes more sense even. Seeing as the states that make up the northern east coast were the thirteen original colonies, it makes sense since that was probably where he was "born." But in _my_ story, he's from the south. Because I want him to be. Let's also blame it on the fact that I'm _from_ the south, still _live_ in the south, and have never ventured very _far_ from the south. Only one thing. Have any of you noticed that I never specifically mention where they live/lived?

Which brings me to my next note:

Anyone wanna guess? Two hints!

Hint one: I live in this state! (Have I ever mentioned where I live? I don't know if I have or not... Kudos to you if I have and you find it!)

Hint two: It's NOT TEXAS! *miffed* Texas gets ALL the recognition! *pout* We're frickin invisible! I FEEL YOU MATTIE!

There's only ONE rule: ANNI IS NOT ALLOWED TO GUESS. You live down the road! OBVIOUSLY YOU KNOW WHERE I LIVE. IN SPECIFICS. IT'S SCARY. (Sorry, but it's cheating! Em-chan isn't allowed either. Or anyone else that knows me personally!)

If no one guesses by next chapter then I'll post another hint! Oh!

THE WINNER GETS A ONESHOT! It can include any pairings I can stomache writting... the list of which is on my profile... or have no pairings at all! It doesn't even have to be Hetalia! But it must be something I know. In any case... Your choice!

Anyway! Enough of this REALLY looooooooong A/N. :D LEAVE MY ONE OF YOUR WONDERFUL REVIEWS.

~ Gilly B.


	5. Hold Me, Wrap Me Up

Phew. Kinda tired now, took me forever... Can you believe that I only had the first paragraph written for most of the time, was struck by inspiration and then wrote out the rest of it in the past few hours? This was five pages! Longer than my usual chapter. Then again... Major, emotional, stuff happening...

A Fairytale Promise is out! :D Go read... It's really adorable.

WARNINGS: More angst. My stories are riddled with it...

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. I don't own the songs I use every chapter. The fairytales, however, are public domain! :) TAKE THAT!

* * *

Alfred, however insistent that he was a hero and that hero's weren't afraid of anything, was afraid of many things. His cautious nature made him question everything, with good reason. He was still wanted after all, and growing up with the knowledge that the Russian mob was after his powers did nothing to quell his paranoia. Then there was the fear of ghosts. He couldn't fight something like that! There was no way to physically fight a ghost, and that scared him. Then, of course, the intense fear of solitude. He was a people person and the thought of being kept away from his loved ones, or even worse, _shunned_, was a terrifying thing. But the icing on the cake, the holy mother of all fears that he had was also the most irrational. Even _he_ didn't know why this fear had kept with him, and his brother, since childhood. The fear of thunder storms...

* * *

_"DADDY!"_

_The sound of thunder crashed through the house as ten year old Alfred, still clad in his cowboy attire, launched himself at his father, Arthur. Arthur was not surprised by this, the trembling mass he now clutched against his chest, but more that the storm had approached so quickly. _

_"Shh... It's okay, Al. I've got you, lad," Arthur ran his fingers soothingly through his son's hair. "Let's move to the couch, yeah?" He pulled the boy over to the couch and wrapped a blanket around the both of them. "When Papa and Matthew come back, we'll have Matthew snuggle under the blankets with us and we'll make Papa make us all hot chocolate, you know how much you love hot chocolate..." Sometimes, just babbling on could calm the boys' nerves during a bad storm._

_"Daddy?" The tiny, trembling voice interrupted Arthur's tangent._

_"Yes, Alfred?"_

_"Can you tell me a story?" Arthur chuckled at the request, it was always that or a song._

_"Of course. This one is called _Dick Whittington and His Cat..._"_

_Alfred giggled before another rumble caused him to cuddle up against his father's side. "Th-That s-sounds like a silly story."_

_"Oh but it's not!" Arthur exclaimed, trying to distract Alfred from his fear. "It's a tale that is wrought with peril and adventure!"_

_It worked in pulling Alfred's attention from the rain and the thunder. "Really?"_

_"Oh yes," Arthur smiled and pulled the blanket up over their heads, creating a tent around them. "You see... Dick Whittington was a very little boy when his father and mother died."_

_"He didn't have a mama or a papa? Not even a daddy?" Alfred said with sad little eyes._

_"No... But that's okay because he was so little, indeed, that he never knew them nor the place where he was born..." Arthur was about to continue when a shout from the doorway interrupted him._

_"Mon lapin! Petit ange and I have returned! Where are you hiding away?" Francis's voice echoed in the hall. _

_"Over on the couch, love!" Arthur called out before pulling the blanket down. _

_"Papa! Mattie!" Alfred peeped over the back of the couch and waved at the pair that was removing their wet coats. _

_"Daddy! Alfred!" Matthew quickly kicked off his wet boots and rushed over, jumping on the couch on the other side of Arthur. "Hey, poppet." Arthur drew his other arm around Matthew as he snuggled into Arthur's side, grinning at his brother. _

_Francis chuckled as he hugged all his favorite men. Arthur gave him a rare smile, "Would you mind making hot chocolate for everyone, dear?" _

_Francis returned the smile. "Of course, mon chou." He patted Matthew's head with a murmur of, "Mon petit ange." He saw Alfred pout before Francis cheerfully patted his head as well, "Mon petit trésor." He walked off to the kitchen as he heard Arthur continue his tale. "Dick Whittington strolled about the country till he met with a wagoner who was going to London..."_

* * *

But Alfred no longer had someone to cuddle with, to tell him stories or sing him songs... He couldn't help but think it was because...

_Nobody likes you._

* * *

Ivan was severely irritated. He did _not_ want to be here. It was a nice condo, far nicer than his tiny apartment, but it was the company he was forced to keep that irritated him beyond reason. It was all his idiotic boss's fault...

* * *

_"Heya, Gramps! Long time no see." The smaller American was practically bouncing up and down as he, Ivan, and Don Vargas were left alone in the room. _

_The Don merely laughed. "I am not your Grandfather, Alfredo."_

_Jones smirked. "Yeah, but yer as old as one!"_

_Don Vargas growled good-naturedly. "As cheeky as ever, I see?"_

_"You betcha, old man."_

_The Don shared a small laugh with Jones again before his expression became serious. This piqued Ivan's curiosity, the Don almost never became serious. _

_"Alfredo... Why here?" The Don stared intently at the blonde._

_Jones lost the lighthearted smile he had worn, and again, Ivan was sad to see the smile go. This annoyed him. "Because yer here," was the only reply Jones would give, and it seemed sufficient for the boss._

_"I see. Then you will need some protection. One of my best. Ivan?" Ivan had dreaded what was coming because he knew very well what the Don was going to do._

_"Yes, Don Vargas?" Ivan frowned at the smirk sent his way from the boss._

_"You're new assignment is to protect Alfredo. Can you do this?"_

_"Yes, Don Vargas."_

* * *

And it only snowballed from there... Ivan was now petulantly sitting on the couch in the living room of his and Jones's shared condo. After finding out that neither charge nor guard had sufficient housing, the Don had _graciously_ given them one of his condos. Ivan was now upset with the fact that he was going to be stuck here, guarding that idiot, for _four_ years, or however long it would take the nuisance to finish college at CCNY.

"U-uhm... Ivan?" Ivan didn't even look up to the figure standing next to the other end of the couch.

"It is impolite to address someone by their first name when they have not given you permission." Ivan stated slowly, as if the other would not comprehend it otherwise.

"Really?" The timidness in the American voice vanished as he plopped down on the end of the couch, Ivan noticed he had a pillow clutched against his chest.

"Yes, really." Was he sheltered or just stupid. Ivan was nearly tempted to say this as well, but for some reason decided against it.

"Sorry then, uhm, Braginsky? Never heard of that rule before. We just call everyone by their first name where I come from. Even if I don't know them that well." Jones shifted until his torso was spread across the cushions, head nearly touching Ivan's thigh, and his feet were dangling off the armrest. Curse the shortness of this couch! Ivan shuffled away from the blonde hair.

"And where do you come from?" Jones looked up in surprise at Ivan's question. Ivan stared back evenly, blank mask in place. Jones then smiled cockily.

"Tennessee. East Tennessee. What about you, big fella?" Ivan smirked.

"New York." Ivan mentally cheered as he had shocked the blonde into momentary silence.

Jones look flabbergasted before skeptically looking the other up and down. "You sure? You don' _sound_ like a New Yorker."

Ivan rolled his eyes. "My family was from Russia. The accent was passed down along with the traditions." He really had not idea why he was sharing this, and apparently neither did the other if the confused looks he was giving Ivan were anything to go by.

There was a sudden bout of thunder from the storm outside that made Ivan pause. Humph, he didn't know it was storming. The sudden flailing beside him made him look over to the southerner. He was surprised to find panic in the other's eyes. Interesting.

The blonde glanced over at Ivan, shaking slightly, before sitting up and curling around the pillow he now had in a death grip.

"H-hey... Bra-g-ginsky?" His voice was small, so unlike the usual obnoxious, excited, tone he used.

"Da?" Ivan looked to the other in sadistic amusement.

"Do ya know any... Any Russian fairytales?" The question threw him. What was this nonsense about fairytales? Ivan nodded, not bothering to vocalize his answer.

"Could you..." Jones paused as another rumble echoed across the room, his grip on the pillow tightening. "Would you tell one to me?"

Perhaps it was the strangeness of such a request, or maybe the fear Ivan could hear buried in the other voice, or maybe it was even those shining blue eyes, that Ivan still found infuriatingly familiar, pleading to distract him from the fear. Ivan knew fear far to well, and he crumbled with a sigh. The pause in which he had taken to come to his decision was long enough for the American to think he wouldn't.

Jones looked away from Ivan, pressing himself against the armrest, disappointment and something deeper, still visible, swirling in his eyes behind square glasses.

"Once upon a time a peasant named Vanya had a wife called Marousha. They had been married many years, but they had no children..."

Jones's head snapped up in surprise as Ivan started the old story his sister had told him many times before. Jones tentatively scooted closer to hear the story. Ivan did nothing to discourage him, letting the other approach slowly until their sides were almost touching.

"This was a great sorrow to them. Their only pleasure was watching the children of their neighbors." Ivan slipped into the realm of story-telling, becoming unaware of his audience as he spun his tale. The other was good at letting him, to enraptured by the story and Ivan's deep, soft tone in which he told it.

* * *

"_One winter day, when fresh white snow lay deep everywhere, the peasant and his wife watched the children playing in it, laughing loudly as they played. The children began to make a beautiful snowman, and he and Marousha enjoyed seeing it grow. Suddenly he said, "Wife, let us go out and make a snowman, too!"_

_Marousha was ready. "Why not?" she said. "We may as well amuse ourselves a little. But why should we make a big snowman? Let us make a snow child, since we have no living one."_

_"You are right," said Vanya, and he led his wife outdoors._

_There in the garden by their house they set to work to make a child of snow. They made a little body, and little hands, and little feet. When all was done, they rolled a snowball and shaped it into a head._

_"What are you doing?" cried a passerby._

_"We are making a snow girl," said Marousha._

_On the ball of snow which stood for a head they put a nose and a chin, and they made two little holes for eyes._

_Just as they finished their work-oh, wonder of wonders!-the little snow maiden moved! Vanya felt a warm breath come from her lips. He drew back and looked: the snow maiden's sparkling eyes were blue, and her lips, now rosy red, curved in a lovely smile. _

_"What is this?" cried Vanya, fearful._

_The snow maiden bent her head and the snow fell from now golden hair, which curled about her soft round cheeks. She moved her little arms and legs in the snow as if she were a real child. _

_"Vanya! Vanya!" cried Marousha. " We now have a child!" She threw herself on the child and covered her with kisses._

_"Ah, Snegourka, my own dear snow maiden," she cried, and she carried her into the house._

* * *

Ivan paused in his story to find the other fast asleep, head having fallen on Ivan's shoulder. Ivan sighed as he pulled the pillow from Jones's grip and tucked it under his head, moving out from underneath the other. He would not carry the blonde to his bed, he did not care _that_ much, the fact that he cared at all irked him. He frowned as he pulled a blanket over the blonde and walked to his own bed.

"Perhaps the story will be finished another day..." He turned out the lights.

* * *

Song: Breathe Me by Sia

French: _Mon lapin_ - My bunny (Aww~!)

_ (mon) petit ange - _My little angel (:D So cute.)

_mon petit trésor - _My little treasure (Fufufu~!)

So, I really liked this chapter~! :D Also, I am from EAST Tennessee. The more rural of all three divisions. But anyway, the thing about always using someone's first name... It's true. I had never even _heard_ of people using last names when not really aquianted until I started watching Anime. Japanese people tought me so many things :)

Speaking of Anime... Season 4 of Hetalia will arrive Monday! I can't wait! I got the limited edition!

Other notes...

Dick Whittington and His Cat is an Old English fairytale. One of my favorites. I find it immensely appropriate that England tells this story, as Mr. Whittington's cat sails across the seas in a ship called _Unicorn_ and brings back riches. :| I found it hilarious.

Secondly, Snegourka, The Snow Maiden is a traditional Russian tale. Another of my favorites. And somehow fitting... (Btw, I didn't edit the story at all when I was typing... coincidence much?)

I was thinking about actually having the whole story in there, but decided against it for this chapter. Maybe later. ;)

Night, night~!

Gilly B.


	6. Skol'ko

:D Guess what day it is? Friday... the 13th! D: DUN DUN DUN. Anyway... This chapter feels a little short... But it also feels perfect. Meh.

WARNINGS: Hints of past child abuse, angsty angst, aaaaaaand... stuff :3

Disclaimer: *whines* waieeeeeeeeeeu

**Chapter Six: Going to Buy Some Damn Curtains**

* * *

Ivan glared balefully at the drizzly sunlight that had woken him from his slumber. Why didn't his room have curtains? Reminder: Go buy some damn curtains. The place was protected, he could leave the silly American here. Then he could go buy curtains. Heavy, stupid sunlight blocking curtains. His daylight cursing thoughts were interrupted by a yawn. A yawn he didn't make. Ivan blinked blearily, trying to clear his head from the morning fog. He was just tired. Yes, that's what it was. This means he should go back to sleep. Sleep is good. He was in the process of turning over, away from the stupid sun, when he heard shuffling. And grumbling. Neither of which were coming from him. Was there some strange new technology that made the floor grumble? He must be severely sleep deprived if that idiotic thought actually just crossed his mind.

Ivan flopped over and peered down at the floor beside his bed. What? Just... What? There was Jones; sprawled out on his floor, glasses discarded above his head, clutching that same pillow from the night before as it cradled his head. Ivan was at a loss for words. He could only watch as the other softly smiled in his sleep. Ivan hadn't seen a smile like that on Jones's face before. It was sweet and full of light, a smile made of hope. Jones's leg twitched and the smile morphed into a grimace. The American turned onto his side and curled up, legs pulled close to his chest and arms curled around his head and pillow. Said pillow had bright blonde locks slightly splayed across its surface, his hair was short but it still managed to stick out everywhere. The sunny yellow of the blonde hair almost reminded him of a sunflower... A sunflower.

Ivan jerked back, away from Jones, as his thoughts spiraled. Could it be...? Was it...? Dare he hope...? Ivan leaned back over the bedside. His memory was fuzzy, but this could very well be the long lost sunflower. That same vibrant hair, which the same little cowlick. He could see it clearer now, as Jones didn't have his glasses on. The face, though grown and gone of its baby fat, was similar. And the eyes... Ivan gasped. Those hauntingly familiar eyes. Eyes as blue as the summer sky. There was no doubt they were one in the same. He could still remember... The time he had first seen those shining blue eyes...

* * *

_He was running. Running so hard. He wanted to make everyone happy. He wanted a happy family. Big Sister was happy. Little Sister was happy. But Papa was not. Papa was never happy with him. Even when the needles hurt so bad, even when his lungs hurt from the chemical gas, even when he was so very tired from running and lifting and climbing, and even when he tried his hardest at everything for his Papa. Papa was never happy. When the needles didn't work, when the gas didn't do anything, when he couldn't run fast enough, lift things heavy enough, and climb things high enough, Papa would yell at him. He was a failure, a nothing, a no-good little burden. He was told almost every day that he was worthless. He wasn't good enough for his Papa._

_It was with these thoughts running through his head that Ivan stared up at his Papa as he was poked and prodded and tested. Ivan had been silent, hoping beyond hope that something, _anything_, would happen this time. It would make his Papa happy, and that's all that Ivan ever wanted, cause maybe then he wouldn't be so worthless. But Ivan knew better, he could already see the anger start to spread across his Papa's face. Next he would be yelling. _

_What happened next still echoed throughout Ivan's memories just as it had echoed throughout the hollow room and his Papa's hollow heart._

_Ivan could only stare in shock as the sting spread across his cheek, and his little fingers came up to cup his now red skin. Tears that had already been building up in anticipation of verbal abuse, __spilled from betrayed lilac eyes. Ivan said nothing as his Papa turned his back on him, he said nothing as he quietly slipped out the door, and he didn't say a thing as he stole money from his Papa's drawer and climbed up to the air vents. Not a word. _

_It was when Ivan was crawling his way to freedom; scarf still trailing behind him, money safely tucked in his pocket, and tears still drying on his injured cheek, that he first saw the sunflower boy. Ivan did not know his name, but he very much wished he did. He was small and looked happy, if a little scared. He probably didn't know what was going to happen to him, and Ivan wished he wouldn't have to find out. But Ivan could do nothing for the boy with hair the color of sunshine and eyes as blue as the sky above. The boy was like the sunflowers Ivan had only seen through pictures, light and sunny and filled with hope for a brighter day. He could only pray that the boy could make his Papa happy, because Ivan didn't think the boy could survive his Papa's wrath. _

_"Please live... And maybe someday we can meet again..."_

* * *

Ivan rocked back onto the bad and sighed as his thoughts were in invaded with a multitude of musings and emotions. Two thoughts in particular waged war withing his head. _What the hell, _and_ sunflower!_ tried to dominate the space within his head. He should be happy, he finally found that sunflower boy from so long ago! But, the boy had turned into a man. Alfred F. Jones at that. Alfred Fucking Jones. Hmm... What if that was what the F really stood for? That would be amusing. Ivan smirked at the thought before cursing himself for letting his mind wander. He needed to figure out what to think of the situation before the other woke up. Should he tell the other that he knew? Knew what had happened to him? Discuss their shared, painful, past? Should he keep it a secret? Tell the other nothing of his memories of him? Hide the thoughts he had once carried for the sunflower boy?

Ivan growled at his indecision. What to do? A sudden yawn from the bedside floor made him pause. He needed more time. Ivan quickly and quietly made his way to the closet where he grabbed some clothing to change into and snuck his way into the bathroom. From there, he changed, brushed his teeth, and combed out his hair, all the while hoping that the other hadn't awoken yet. He sighed in relief as he found no trace of the other and hastily scribbled a note for Jones to find.

He needed to go buy some damn curtains.

* * *

Song: Skol'ko (How Many) by Lumen

Why yes! I _do_ alternate chapter songs with english and russian. How astute of you.

Did you like the alternate chapter title? I did. I found it amusing. Don't worry, you'll find out why in the hell Alfred is sleeping on the floor next to Ivan's bad next chapter! :) Bet you can guess anyway. Not that hard to figure out.

Hmmm... I don't know if any of you know this... But I post chapters as soon as they're done. Like really. There is NO editing process... That'll come when I'm done with it, along with editing LMF. This stuff is hot off the presses. Which means, please excuse me for all the typos...

With love,

Gilly B.


	7. Soldier's Poem

Ummm... Let's just get to it, yeah?

Disclaimer: No, I do not own Hetalia. If I could come up with stuff like that on my own... Well.

WARNINGS: Pff- You're in Alfred's point of view. What do you think?

* * *

_"She moved her little arms and legs in the snow as if she were a real child..."_

Alfred slowly drifted to sleep, calmed by the soothing baritone of Braginsky's voice while he told him a fairy tale. The story distracted him from the storm and allowed him to sleep, which he hadn't had much of in the past few days. Being alone in a dark, dirty apartment could do that to him. His thoughts drifted and his mind slipped into the world of dreams...

* * *

_Snow was falling softly... This was a memory. The white blanket was thin and hadn't yet reached all of the ground. The tiny flakes were just beginning to fall..._

_"Daddy! Daddy! It's snowing! It's snowing!"_

_"Yes, Alfred, I can see that."_

_"But Daddy! It's _snowing_! Papa! You know it's snowing, right?"_

_"Oui, mon petit. One would think the world should know by now with all that yelling."_

_Disconnected voices and a feeling of warmth. All that could be seen was the sheet of white with green still peeking through, framed by a white dusted forest. Things were fuzzy, and all that was felt was a tinge of cold and the rush of excitement. _

_"Al! Did you see? I-It's snowing!"_

_"Yeah! I know! Snow, Mattie, snow!"_

_"Daddy, Papa, can we go play?" _

_With those words, a sense of dread filled the frosty air. It was like one of those moments in a scary movie. The characters play on, oblivious, but the audience knows that there are monsters awaiting them. _

_"Yes, yes. But you have to put your coats on!" _

_Two small children were already rushing into view. Tumbling through the warmth and into the cold. The memory shifted and the snow was thick upon the ground. The view shifted to that of one of the children. Things seemed bigger through the smaller eyes. Warm breath fogged the air. He waited for his new glasses to adjust to the temperature change, his brother doing the same._

_Laughter filled the air as the two frolicked in the heavy snow, climbing branches in the forest, and falling about in the winter air. It was the snowball fight that was their undoing. _

_A feeling of surprise and cold as eyes turn toward a timid figure, still smiling slightly. _

_"Mattie!" An overly loud voice exclaims. "You hit me!"_

_The smile slips and a blush forms. "S-sorry! Al... I was..."_

_Ice cold fingers scoop up snow and retaliate. A feeling of amusement and fun. Playfulness._

_"Come and get me, Mattie!" _

_Laughter. A feeling of falling as he's tackled to the ground. The warm weight of another, struggling to get free as the other clamps down. The slight grip of panic. A forceful push and a sickening crunch. _

_True fear envelops the snow thickened atmosphere. It's hard to breath, as eyes follow the path of the tiny body flung into the air. Blood. The heavy scent of copper. White and red. _

_"MATTIE!"_

_There is no answer. The landscape is silent and everything is dipped in red. Eyes glance down at little hands. They, too, are covered in blood. A scream echoes through the forest._

* * *

Alfred jerked awake, panting heavily with a scream still lodged in his throat. His trembling hands reached up to cover his eyes. It was a horrible dream. A horrible memory. Alfred would never be able to overcome the fear of using his powers, not after what he had done to his brother.

Groping out into the darkness, Alfred looked for his glasses, only to realize they were still on his head. What the fuck? Oh, yeah. He feel asleep on the couch. That dick! Ivan couldn't have woken him up or something? That was when Alfred felt the warm weight of the blanket around him. Okay, so maybe he _wasn't_ such an asshole, but the creep was still a dick. Especially considering what time it was. Fuck.

Alfred was paralyzed by the little red numbers that were lit up from the digital clock on the entertainment stand. 3:01 a.m. Three in the fucking morning! He'd never be able to go back to sleep. Did Ivan even _know_ the shit that went on at three a.m.? Although, it wasn't really Ivan's fault... But it was! His stupid fairytale just _had_ to have snow in it! The stupid snow was what triggered that stupid nightmare! All Ivan's fault!

Alfred glared at the clock, willing it speed up time. Four a.m. was the safe time. Four meant it wasn't three and by that logic, Alfred could go back to sleep. With the numbers only changing to 3:02, Alfred realized that glaring at the clock was a hopeless effort. That was also when he noticed that it was dark. Too dark. Fuck. He either needed lots of light and a distraction or the presence of another human being. Usually in these situations he would just sneak into Mattie's room and force him to stay up till four with him. He had used to go to his parents room, but after one _very_ traumatizing night of walking in on them doing..._things,_ he never went in there again. Ever. Not even during the day time when he was home alone. Just, no. But Mattie wasn't here, and it was three in the morning and he was panicking and it was dark and.. just... fuck!

Alfred snatched the pillow and blanket made a mad dash for the hallway. He forced himself to calm down as he slowly opened the door to Ivan's room. He let out a small sigh of relief, the other was still asleep. If Ivan, no wait, _Braginsky_, had been awake... He would probably have died. A slow and painful death. A brutal murder that Ivan would've gotten away with and then his ghost would have to come back and haunt him for the rest of eternity and he really didn't want to haunt this jerk for the rest of his immortal afterlife, so... He was kind of thankful that the evil Russian mobster man was asleep. Alfred settled down on the floor beside the bed, taking off his glasses and snuggling up with his pillow, drifting to sleep yet again thanks to Mr. Ivan Braginsky.

* * *

_Whispers... I wonder, I wonder... The feeling of cold. Dark. Pain. _

_A once forgotten lullaby echoes in the darkness as pain surrounds. Black, everywhere. Metal and copper. Gray steel and the smell of blood. Shaking. Laughter. Maniacal, high pitched and unhinged. Light. Blinding light. _

_"Do you, I wonder, remember me when I am gone?"_

_Running. Burning lungs and burning legs. Stretching. Pushing. Pulling. Painful sting. Whispers... Not enough, more. Faster. Harder. Smack! Running. Huffing breath. Feels as if lungs are exploding. _

_"Have I, I wonder, ever crossed your mind?"_

_Heat; searing, dripping. Blood dripping. Plop. Plop. Chains rattling. Time to play, little one. Climb. Higher. Higher. Lift. Tug. Pull. Don't let the others catch up. They don't play nice. Cold again. Hot again. Cold. Ice. Hot. Fire. _

_"Am I, I wonder, nothing but a memory...?"_

_Thwack! Thwack! Push. Pull. Sting. Pain. Cold. Cold and Hot. Cold outside, hot inside. Chemicals mixing and burning. Nose on fire. Blood exploding. Dripping. Coughing. Faster! Run faster! Climb higher! Thwack! LIFT IT. Thwack! PULL IT! Thwack! PUSH IT! Thwack! _

_"I am what I am, which is but the whispered words of, I wonder... I wonder..."_

_Screaming. Thunder. Lightening. Blood. So much blood. Always blood. Needles stick. Screaming. Pain. _

_"Twinkle... twinkle... little star..."_

_Sleep._

* * *

Alfred, again, woke to a nightmare that was nothing but a memory...

* * *

Song: Go The Distance from the movie Hercules by Disney

I'm starting to really like how I write dream sequences~! So, uhm, if there's one thing that I can relate to with America... It's his fear of Ghosts. I mean really. I do the same thing. Watch scary movies and scare myself silly with them. But only ghosts. Blood, guts, gore, anything! But not ghosts. :| Funny story actually, the three am thing. My friend Starla kept me up on the phone and when I realized it was getting close to three, I forced her to stay on the phone until four. xD We were counting down the minutes...

Three a.m. - The devil's hour. The hour in which it is MOSTLY LIKELY to have supernatural occurances.

That's why I hate it.

Anyway... Just so I would stop freakin out, I was looking at random pics on dA and came across one with Germany... It said "Germany x Herr Shtick - Gives a new meaning to 'a stick up his ass'"

I lol'ed so hard!

Anyway...

In the next chapter... Stuff happens!

Pleasedontkillme~

Gilly B.


	8. Kosmos

Just so you know, if you're ever in Tennessee and you wish to see a large gathering of stereotypical red necks and possibly endanger your life, please just visit the Anderson County Fair. :) I swear I almost died last night.

Anyway! This is an announcement: I have been coerced by my family to go on a camping trip. D: There will be no internet access until Monday. MONDAY. We're leaving... in two hours actually...

*sigh*

Disclaimer: Blah, blah, blah, I don't own anything... Not even Toby. Toby belongs to Bai-Marionette in her fic "In Tune."

WARNINGS: Lack of curtains...

Chapter 8: **BE FREE MR. BLUBBERS. BE FREE. **

* * *

Alfred was left panting, sweat running down his face, and heart beating rapidly. He could only sit there for a moment, sunlight streaming in from the window. With a shaky hand, he reached out and placed his glasses on the bridge of his nose. As the world came back into sharp clarity, his heart slowed and his breathing calmed. He hadn't had one of _those_ nightmares in a long time. He blinked the sleep from his eyes for a few more moments before yawning and glaring at the sun still attacking his poor eyes. _Ivan needs to get some damn curtains_... Oh, shit. Alfred had a mini panic attack as he jumped up and found the bed empty. _That means he's awake.._. Pillow clutched to his chest and blanket yanked from the floor, Alfred slowly creeped around the bed making sure to jump and scream like a little girl every time he heard something or felt something touch him.

He was a hero! And any hero would be freaked if they were in a villain's lair and in their potential clutches, right? There may be a very real possibility of Braginsky hiding around the corner... or under the bed... or in the hallway closet... just waiting to spring out with a butcher knife or something and shred him to pieces! He had every right to be freaked! Of course, he _was_ the good guy and the good guys always won against the bad guys... so he'd beat Ivan in the end with his super awesome hero skills and all that, but it would still hurt before hand! Alfred didn't want to get beaten to a pulp before he won against the bad guy! Pain? Nuh, uh. No thank you.

Alfred was crossing into the living room when he spotted the little yellow note. Looking behind him and side to side, he slowly inched his way to the table. He dropped to the floor and looked under the couch, just to make sure. From his position on the floor, squished between the couch and the coffee table, he reached up and snatched the note quickly, you know, in case there was any funny business. He eyed the note hesitantly, not yet reading it. He glared at it a bit before finally reading the loopy, slightly awkward letters.

_"Mr. Jones,_

_I have gone to the store. For your protection, you are __not__ allowed to leave. I will be back shortly._

_Ivan Braginski."_

"Stupid commie bastard." Alfred was tempted, very tempted, to walk out the door right then and there. He crumpled the note in his hand and stood, blanket and pillow left forgotten. He glanced at the door that was just across the room. Should he stay or should he go? The sight of white snow and blood-stained hands flashed in his mind, and suddenly the door seemed as if it were a mile away. A movie marathon under the blankets seemed like a good idea too. Fuck Ivan! He wasn't going to go outside if he didn't want to! Alfred raised his nose in the air, he would do as he pleased regardless of what Braginsky told him. He just so happened to not want to leave. There. Now he wasn't obeying Ivan's command. And with that, Alfred decided to raid the kitchen.

After several minutes of opening cabinets and continuously opening the fridge door and slamming it shut, Alfred came to the conclusion that there was in fact, _no_ popcorn. How was he supposed to have a movie marathon without popcorn? That's like, unamerican! And if there was one thing Alfred F. Jones was not, it was unamerican. Alfred stood in the middle of the kitchen glaring at the shelves with his hands on his hips. He sighed and grumbled as he searched from some cereal. He would have to find something else to do. But at the moment he was faced with a conundrum.

Wheaties or Cheerios? Wheaties: breakfast of champions, or Cheerios: America's favorite cereal? He stood there for a good few minutes before coming up with the best idea ever. Both! He cheerfully pulled both boxes out and started preparing his food, America's favorite breakfast for champions! As he was scampering around the kitchen, spoon in mouth, bowl in hand and on the noble search for milk, Alfred noticed a certain pattern on the floor. Like stepping stones.

Alfred grinned as he made sure to stand on the darker shaded tiles. Lava floor! See, he could totally find a way to entertain himself! His smile widened as he expertly hopped from one tile to the next, gathering his things for cereal and sitting down to eat. He was just pouring milk into his Wheatie-Cheerios when he heard his cellphone go off in the living room.

_"'Cause I know that you wanna be Canadian, please..."_

It was Mattie! He laughed at his hilarious choice of ring tone as he hopped up from the table and maneuvered his way to the living room, still avoiding the lava floor of course.

_"Even though in the winter things tend to freeze..."_

"The hero was arrived! What can the great America do for his bro?"

The was a sigh on the other end. _"You're such a cockknocker."_

Alfred stared at the phone for a minute. "What's a cockknocker?"

A chuckle. "_Google it."_

"But, Mattieeeeee, I don't wanna! I'm going to assume it means 'an awesome and heroic brother'."

Alfred smiled at the sarcasm in Mattie's voice, "_Yeah, sure. Let's go with that."_

"So, bro." Alfred smirked, he rhymed! "You don't usually call without having something to tell me or something. What's up?"

_"Straight to the point, eh?"_ Alfred flopped onto the couch.

"Yup."

There was another sigh. "_Mr. Blubbers came back."_

Alfred jerked up. "What?"

_"You heard me. Mr. Blubbers came back. He's having a play date with Antonio's turtle Toby."_

Alfred sat with the phone in his hand. His whale buddy came back? Even after that terribly emotional send off that was just like that scene in Free Willy?

"How do ya even know?" It's not like whales could live in land-locked areas... Could they?

"_Gilbert told me. He got a call from Antonio who got a call from the Aquarium down in Florida, where he keeps all his turtles. They said there had been a whale just floating around the coast line. Apparently, Mr. Blubbers was in danger of getting beached. They went out to check on him and saw the tag you gave him. They brought him in after that. He's living happily in the aquarium now."_

Alfred could hear the annoyance in his brother's voice, because really, it was ridiculous. It only took _one_ trip to the beach and Alfred instantly made friends with a whale. How did that even happen? And why did he name the thing _Mr. Blubbers_?

"That's good to hear. Thanks for telling me, bro."

"_No problem."_ Alfred could here tiny chirps, likely Gilbird, on the other end. "_Look, I have go, okay?"_

"Alright. Talk to ya later?"

"_Sure."_

Click. Back to being bored it was. Wait... Cereal! His cereal was getting soggy! There's nothing worse in the morning than soggy cereal. He raced back into the kitchen to find that his cereal, thankfully, wasn't soggy yet. Cheerfully munching on his breakfast, his thoughts began to wander. There was something terribly familiar about Ivan. Mostly his eyes. He wondered what it was, exactly? It's not like they've ever met before. But then, the name struck a cord somewhere, too. Oh well. Alfred dumped his bowl in the sink with plans of either cleaning it up later or somehow making Ivan do it.

Ambling into the living room, he plumped up his pillow, pulled his blanket up over his head and proceeded to flip through channels on the television. He had turned the lights off and there weren't any windows on this side of the condo. It was nice and dark and perfect for the channel Alfred decided on. He didn't know which one it was and he didn't really care, but they were doing a special on space and the universe; instantly drawing Alfred in. Space! Alfred had always liked space and stars and the universe. It was so cool! The last frontier, the only place man had little knowledge of that had, oh so many possibilities.

* * *

That was how Ivan found him. Curled up on the sofa and eyes glued to the star-speckled television. Ivan was taken aback for a moment before deciding that he didn't care and proceeded to his bedroom, curtains in hand. He had been doing some thinking at the store. He had decided to simply disregard anything he knew about Mr. Jones before. Mr. Jones was his charge, someone he was supposed to protect, and he wasn't going to let anything change that. Perhaps... He could still get to know the other- there was no harm in that, yes? If he was lucky, there might just be more to this man than meets the eye. It was contradicting, almost, but he would have to just, what was the American saying? Wing it? Yes, he would simply "wing it". First and foremost, however, he wanted to know why in the hell Jones had slept on the floor of his room...

* * *

Alfred barely noticed when the door opened and closed and Ivan waltzed passed him to his bedroom. Barely. He tensed, waiting for eyes filled with promises of death to turn to him. They never came. He was equally relived and somewhat disappointed. He pouted. What? No fight to the death? No epic battle between good and evil? Well, that was boring. He turned back to the show and honestly didn't notice when Ivan walked back into the room.

Ivan studied the other, watching as Jones's eyes widened when another shot of the cosmos flitted across the screen. Interesting. Ivan had always liked space, being able to stare up into the sky and trace the constellations. It was easy to talk to the moon at night, even when she never replied. When he was younger, Ivan had liked to imagine he could float in space, peacefully wandering the universe and looking for the brightest stars. When the program went to commercial, Ivan cleared his throat to get the other's attention.

Alfred jumped at the sudden noise. Holy flying fuck! When the hell had Ivan gotten there? Alfred turned wide eyes to the other and awkwardly waved as Ivan gave him a creepy smile in return.

"So, Mr. Jones," Alfred gulped as the other began. Oh god, he was going to die. "You would like to explain why you were sleeping on the floor of _my_ bedroom, yes?"

Alfred turned away, slightly embarrassed. "I... I had a nightmare. I-I was freaking out! And I wasn't thinking clearly and I'm sorry and it won't happen again! Please don't kill me!"

Ivan's smile turned into a contemplative frown, thinking it over. "I will not kill you for having a bad dream. That would be silly."

Alfred nodded as he dragged his knees up to his chest and hugged his pillow closer. "Okay." It came out as almost a whisper, he really didn't want to talk about it anymore.

Ivan frowned more and decided that he didn't like it when the other was acting the way he was now. He changed the subject. "You like space, da?"

Alfred smiled. "Yeah."

"Me as well." Alfred looked over to Ivan in surprise.

"Really?"

"Da." Ivan received a genuine smile, he much preferred this to an uncomfortable frown.

"Cool."

* * *

Song: Kosmos by t.A.T.u.

AWWWWWW~ They're bonding! Anyway... Notes!

Cockknocker- Supposedly it means asshole but I don't really know. Pff- I looked up Canadian slang online. Yeah.

Mr. Blubbers - If I had a pet whale, I would totally name him Mr. Blubbers. I really just couldn't resist. After watching season 4, omg... America: Hey, Japan! We wanna make friends with your whales! Japan: No, I am sorry. Our whales are very private creatures and like to hide under that blue thing you sailed in on. xD And that moment where Arthur makes fun of him for being friends with a whale! It crushed the hearts of all USUK fans, I'm sure.

England: Hey America, you know if you're that desperate for friends... I'll be your friend.

America: *looks up in surprise* *silence* HAHAHAHA! NO WAY DUDE!

I LAUGHED SO HARD.

Anyway.

I've been addicted to listening to Alice Human Sacrifice. Would anyone be opposed to a short Alice themed Hetalia story? I'd find it deliciously wicked... If I have time for it...

Do svidanya!

Gilly B.


	9. Kryptonite

Hello all! :3 We came back from camping early~! D: Thunderstorms! Oh noes! Anyway...

Disclaimer: Umm.. I own Mr. Blubbers! And that's about it. And he's not even in this chapter...

WARNINGS: Angst? Isn't there always angst?

* * *

The day from then on out had progressed quite smoothly if Alfred did say so himself. He hadn't had class that day and apparently Ivan didn't have a life, so they sat the majority of the day watching documentaries about space and bickering like an old married couple. Most surprising was what they bickered _about._ On Ivan's side, he had assumed that the blonde was ignorant and air-headed and wrongly so. Alfred had a very decent head on his shoulders when he cared to use it. On Alfred's side, he had figured that Ivan, being a big tough guy that needed to work for the mafia, that the Russian might have dropped out of school and was all brawn and no brain. But Ivan, although lacking in a regular education from the whole, running for his life for the most of it thing, was very intelligent and not afraid to show it. Both were pleasantly surprised that the other could keep up.

"That is not sufficient proof! What were the Italians meaning to do in the first place? Spying! I do not see the point of it all. It is a _conspiracy_ theory. It is probably untrue."

"It may or may not be true, but still... It's really strange that they got recordings at all. And that _is_ something the Soviets would cover up, wouldn't want a death on their hands."

"If the Soviet government had achieved the miracle of having the first man in space earlier then why cover it up? Even if it did lead to a death, why not use it as a tragic loss and bring the people together? Death can be a unifying opportunity."

"That's sick, dude."

"That is politics."

Many of their arguments went on like this, and so did their day. With occasional breaks to the kitchen and the bathroom, they spent the majority of their day being lazy in front of the television. But soon, night fell and that space marathon? It turned into a special on supernatural wonders. Alfred, ever insistent on being the hero, refused to change the channel. Ivan, however, soon got tired of the American's scream and jump and then act like it never happened routine and turned the television off, plunging the room into darkness, and freaking out the blonde even more.

"Hey, Iv- Braginsky?" Alfred hesitantly called after running and flicking on the lights.

"Da?"

"Um, I fell asleep before you finished that fairy tale. Would you mind telling the rest of it again?"

Ivan sighed but decided to comply anyway. He was in a pleasant enough mood and thought that telling a bedtime story was better than having the other crawl into his bed.

"What was the last thing you remember from the story?"

Alfred perked up, "When she started moving."

"I shall start from there then, da?"

"Okay." Alfred snuggled into the couch with his trusty pillow and wrapped the blanket around himself, waiting for Ivan to begin the story.

* * *

"_She moved her little arms and legs in the snow as if she were a real child._

_"Vanya! Vanya!" cried Marousha. "We now have a child!" She threw herself on the child and covered her with kisses._

_"Ah, Snegourka, my own dear snow maiden," she cried, and she carried her into the house. _

_Vanya had much to do to recover from his surprise, and Marousha became foolish with joy. _

_Hour by hour, Snegourka, the snow maiden, grew both in size and beauty. Vanya and Marousha could not take their eyes away from her._

_The little house, which held such sadness, now was full of life and merriment. The neighboring children came to play with the snow maiden. They chattered with her and sang songs to her, teaching her all they knew._

_The snow maiden was very clever. She observed everything and learned quickly. When she spoke, her voice was so sweet that one could gone on listening to it forever. She was gentle, obedient and loving. In turn, everyone loved her. She played in the snow with the other children and they saw how well her little hands could model things of snow and ice._

_At last the winter came to an end, and the spring sun shone down and warmed the earth. The snow melted, the green grass sprang up in the fields, and the lark sang high in the sky. The village girls went about singing:_

_Sweet spring, how did you come to us?_

_How did you come?_

_Did you come on a plow, or on a harrow?_

_Although the other children were gay with spring, and full of song and dance, the snow maiden sat by the window looking sadder and sadder. _

_"What is the matter with you, my dear child?" asked Marousha, drawing her close and caressing her. "Are you not well? Why aren't you happy?"_

_"It is nothing, Mother," answered the snow maiden. "I am quite well."_

_The last snow of the winter had now melted and disappeared. Flowers bloomed in every field and garden. In the forest, the nightingale poured out its song and all the world seemed glad, except the snow maiden, who became sadder still. _

_She would run away from her friends and hide from the sun in dark corners, like a timid flower under the trees. She liked best to play by the water, under shady willow trees. She was happiest at night and during a storm, even a fierce hailstorm. When the hail melted and the sun broke forth again-she began to weep. _

_Summer came, with ripening fields, and Ivan Kupala Day was soon to be celebrated. The snow maiden's friends begged her to go with them to the forest, to pick berries and flowers._

_The snow maiden did not want to go, but her mother urged her, even though, she, too, felt afraid._

_"Go, my darling, and play. And, you, children, look after her well. You know how much I love her."_

* * *

"Hey..." Alfred, barely awake, interrupted the story with a yawn and an apologetic smile. "'M sorry," another yawn escaped him, "I wanna hear the rest of the story, but 'm too tired."

Ivan nodded with a smile. He had been having a rather pleasant day and he had no doubts that Alfred was a major cause. It boggled his mind a bit, but through all the commercials and heated arguments about space and physics, and even the dispute about which place to order take-out from, he had come to accept it. The blonde was rather entertaining in his childishness.

"It is okay. A tale for another time, da?" Ivan got up from the couch and went about cleaning up the pizza box and soda cans as Alfred tried to get up without falling asleep standing up.

"Yeah," Alfred smiled gave a sleepy smile, "an maybe I'll tell ya some of my own?"

"It is a plan." Ivan shouted from the kitchen. As he walked back into the living room he found that instead of shuffling off to his own room, Alfred was just standing there blearily, as if he had fallen asleep right there.

"Jones?" Ivan waved a hand in front of Alfred's face. "Jones!" Ivan sighed. "Alfred!"

"Huwhut?" Alfred started a bit, rubbing at his eyes.

Ivan raised a brow. "Why are you not in bed? It is unhealthy to fall asleep standing up."

"S'not." Alfred yawned and then grimaced. "'M scared. Don wanna go bed."

Ivan sighed and sat down on the sofa, pulling Alfred next to him. "You are a hero, da? Why would a hero be afraid of going to bed?"

"Every hero has a kryptonite." The whisper was small and far more lucid than anything he'd said before. Alfred was definitely awake now.

Ivan shifted to get a better look at the other's face. A troubled frown marred Alfred's face as his bright blue eyes seemed to be dimmed and focused on a point somewhere far away.

"What has you scared so much, Fredka? I do not understand."

Alfred, still distant, didn't notice the use of the nickname. "The dark. That's where it starts. It always starts in the dark. Then the dreams. I hate the dreams. And then..." Alfred paused and winced. "Then the ghosts. Ghosts of the past. Th-the needles. And th-the p-pain."

Alfred was about to go on, but Ivan held a hand over his mouth, shushing him. Ivan understood these fears very well. He understood, with great clarity, what Alfred was so afraid of.

"I know. I know," was all he could whisper. Ivan, with his hand still over Alfred's mouth, found that the other was trembling. After a moment of indecision, Ivan pulled the other close, petting Alfred's golden blonde hair as he trembled in Ivan's hold. "I know. These ghosts haunt me as well."

Alfred, who had been clutching his pillow close and beginning to calm from Ivan's petting, suddenly tore from the his grasp with an outraged cry. "How? How could you know?" Tears glittering at the edges of his eyes, Alfred backed up until he was standing at the other end of the couch, waiting for the Russian's reply.

Ivan stared at Alfred silently before nodding and unwrapping his scarf from his shoulders. Alfred only scrunched his brows and waited.

"The needles pierced my skin many more times than yours. I know the pain, Fredka. Very well."

Ivan finished unwrapping his scarf, his many scars crisscrossing across his neck in plain view. Alfred gasped before sinking back onto the sofa. He sat there for a good minute, just staring as his mind reached back into his memories.

* * *

_"We might have to fix that."_

_"Perhaps. But let's not be to hasty. It's only been a month. Ivan didn't start showing until three."_

_"Don't remind me of that failure. He was a waste of time and money."_

_"That's no way to talk about your own son. He was still useful."_

_"Ivan is not my son. He is a Braginsky now. Part of his wretched mother's family, not mine. We need perfect soldiers, not mistakes."_

* * *

"Oh. You're _that_ Ivan. And-and... He was your... Oh."

Ivan smiled bitterly. "Da. 'oh.'"

Alfred's blue gaze snapped to Ivan's lilac as he was struck with yet another memory.

* * *

_Alfred was scared, trembling outside the door and clutching his brother's hand. He had never been to this place before and it was scary. It was dirty and filled with mean people. He didn't want to look at any of the mean faces and decided to look up instead. That's when he saw them. Those pretty purple eyes staring back at him. They locked gazes for a moment before the purple eyes blinked out and turned. Leaving Alfred to the monsters._

* * *

"You ran away."

"I escaped, yes. I was deemed a failure and my time was limited. I knew his patience was thin, and so I left. It is why I work for Don Vargas, da? Protection. He will want to kill me the next time he sees me."

"Oh. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for freaking out and stuff."

"It is okay. Every hero has a kryptonite, da?"

Alfred smiled slightly. "Yeah."

* * *

Song: Kryptonite by 3 Doors Down

Whew~! :D Now they both know! And they're getting even closer! :| I like giving Alfred that last word apparently...

Oh yeah, that argument? I looked up space conspiracy theories... xD I thought that one was perfect.

D: I WANNA FINISH SNEGOURKA. BAH. I was planning on finishing it this chapter, but that just didn't happen! Alfred got sleepy on me! Feh.

I was camping right? No internet access even though we had electricity. So I was writting but I didn't have a song for the chapter. So I went looking through my old mp3 and found this one and I was like "Perfect!" So, yeah. Camping did _not _put me in a good mood. More like a Romano-esque the-world-can-go-fuck-itself mood. My mom just thought I was sick, because apparently my I-don't-feel-good face is the same as my I'm-waiting-for-one-of-these-flies-to-spontaneously-combust-from-the-heat-of-my-glare face.

But enough about that! I have something planned for the next chapter~ I think you'll like it! *insert pervy face here*

Auf Weidersehen~!

Gilly B.


	10. Podsolnechnik

:D Heeey you gais~ Hot and steamy men... Mnmm.

Disclaimer: No ownie. We've gone through this before.

WARNINGS: Sexual situation~ ;) and the beginning of more... ANGST!

* * *

Alfred sighed in pleasure. He didn't really know how this happened, but it felt good. Really good. He whimpered a bit as a large hand ghosted over his bare chest, brushing a tender nipple. He gasped at the sensation of warm lips against his thigh and fingertips sliding across his skin. He felt blood rushing to his cheeks and... lower body parts. Those hands! Those wonderfully large and gentle hands.

It was a slow type of desire, working itself up and fanning the flames. A slowing building heat that spiraled with the soft caresses that started at his thighs and ended at the tips of his toes, the shifting of a large warmth above him, the tender kisses planted over his navel and up along his stomach to his shoulder blades and to the crook of his neck. Alfred moaned softly and brought a hand up, lightly biting his knuckle so he wouldn't become louder.

Suddenly, those lips moved to the shell of his ear, enticing an even lovelier moan. Alfred bit a little harder on his knuckle as a sexy, accented voice whispered into his ear, "Fredka..."

Mmm, since when had Ivan been there? Alfred didn't know, but he didn't exactly regret it either. The Russian commie was _hot_ and pretty damn sexy when he wasn't being a communist ass and all that. So Alfred decided to happily continue his wet dream... until his blaring ring tone decided to jolt him back into the steamy-Russian-sex-less reality.

_"Cause I know that you wanna be Canadian, please."_

"Stupid Canadian cockblock."

* * *

Ivan, quite innocently, just wanted to get something for breakfast. It was not his fault that the American had, yet again, fallen asleep on the couch and was making strange noises. At first, he had only heard the whimper, and thinking that Alfred was having a nightmare, had rushed into the living room to wake him up. But when he got into the room, he noticed that the blonde did _not_ look like he was having a nightmare. On the contrary, he looked to be enjoying himself.

Ivan had been mesmerized and slightly turned on when he realized the other was dreaming about, well, _sex_. He had never really contemplated others in a sexual manner. He had never really had the time, but he had long since come to the conclusion that he probably wouldn't mind either gender. He wasn't a virgin, oh no, he had taken hookers, of both genders, before, but he had never really thought of people he knew on a more personal level in that manner. He'd never had a relationship as the only people he had ties with were the ones he worked with and, sex was sex, and business was business. It was a decidedly complicated matter. But this stupid, arrogant, _adorable_, blonde seemed to want to make it even more so.

Ivan very much liked the sight of Alfred blushing and moaning and writhing on the couch. Now, if there was a little less clothing and a little more moaning... Ivan shook his head. Damn. Now he would need a shower. A cold shower.

"_'Cause I know_-" And that was his cue to leave. Goodbye and Do svidanya...

* * *

"Cockblock." Alfred greeted sleepily as he answered his phone.

"_Good morning, Al._" There was laughter in his brother's voice that he _did not_ appreciate.

"Whaaaaaaat do you waaaaaaaaaaaaant?" Alfred always got whiny in the morning.

The humor evaporated from Matthew's voice. "_You need to come back home."_

Alfred shot up in panic. "What? Why? What's going on?"

"_Dad's in the hospital."_

He gasped. "How? Why? What happened?"

"_I don't know yet, I just found out. But we need to go home for a bit, until we can sort out what's going on."_ Matthew sighed and Alfred could just hear Gilbird chirping on the end. He could imagine his brother pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

"Okay, okay. I'll be there." The thought of Ivan suddenly popped up. "I just need to sort a few things out first and ask around for notes for class. I'll call you back later, alright?"

"_Okay, just... Just make sure you come. Dad and Papa will need us both. I have to go. Bye."_

"Bye..." The dial tone seemed too loud to his ear as he sat there for a moment. His Dad was in the hospital? How serious was it? If he was being called to come home, it must be bad. What if... What if it was fatal?

"Fredka?" Ivan was suddenly in front of him waving a hand in his face.

Alfred blinked a few times. "What did you call me?"

"Ah," Ivan looked a little nervous and it made Alfred smile slightly. "Fredka. It is one of the ways to say Alfred in my language. My apologies."

Alfred's smile widened. "It's okay, big guy, no harm done. But I get to call you Ivan now!"

Ivan returned the smile. "Da. Podsolnechnik."

"Podsolwhat?"

Ivan backed up a little and blushed. "Ah, nothing. It is nothing."

Alfred narrowed his eyes in suspicion before deciding to let it go. He had bigger fish to fry.

"Nevermind then." Alfred paused and pursed his lips. "I have to go home for a while."

"Why, may I ask?" Ivan sat down on the couch beside him and looked at him curiously.

The blonde looked down at the cellphone still clutched in his hand. "My Dad's been hurt. Maybe badly."

"Ah. I see." Ivan glanced off into the distance as if contemplating something important. "I will have to go with you, yes?"

"What?" Alfred jumped from the sofa and gave Ivan an incredulous look.

"For your safety. I _am_ supposed to be your body guard, da?"

After a small glaring contest, Alfred sighed dejectedly. "Fine."

Alfred walked off into the kitchen muttering to himself. "Road trip of the century. Fun."

* * *

Song: Podsolnechnik by Bratya Grimm

So... The paragraph in Ivan's pov? Does it make _any_ sense? Cause I can't tell. I wasn't quite sure how to explain it. :/

Anyway... My friend Starla is over right now. :D She has something to say: Ummeee, well... hmmm. you see, she's kinda my bestie, but.. well, I'z no read this nonsensical ness. Don't judge me! I'm tired. Well, I hopes you enjoyed whatever the hell this is... probably something beautiful and angsty or depressing... the only thing she knows :D Make her make you angsty cupcakes... they taste good.

Aaaand that was Starla, at midnight. No, she isn't always like this. :) Only late at night at my house. That's the time we make horrible looking oreo pancakes/microwave bacon. And angsty cupcakes.

*squee* :D They're getting closer to sexy times! And the plot is advancing! D: But oh no! Arthur's been hurt! Yeah, it's Arthur if you hadn't picked that up. Daddy/Dad is Arthur while Papa is Francis. :|

With love!

Gilly B.


	11. Fix You

:D

No, they don't even make it to the hospital yet. You'll have to wait and see what happened to Iggy~

Disclaimer: Nope.

WARNINGS: ANGSTANGST...

* * *

Alfred was glaring out at the street as the car drove steadily on. He wasn't angry at Ivan for coming. He wasn't angry at Grandpa Roma for agreeing with Ivan. He wasn't angry at Mattie for giving him the news. He wasn't angry at his Papa or his Dad. He wasn't angry at anyone. So why did he feel like this? So helpless... and worried and angry? It made him all the more frustrated. He was the hero, he was supposed to protect his family and he wasn't there. He was off flouncing around. What if his dad was really hurt and it was all his fault? What if, what if, what if? He bit his lip in worry as he continued to glare at the passing scenery.

No matter how much he claimed to be the hero, he had always looked up to his dad as _his_ hero. It was unnerving now to find that something bad had happened to him. His dad was always the one to comfort him, with bed time stories and lullabies. His dad was always the one to berate him the most when he did something bad, the one who yelled louder and hugged harder. It was always his dad he never wanted to disappoint. He loved his Papa, he did, but he looked up to his dad more. If something happened, if he lost his dad... He couldn't bare to think like that.

A sudden, stray thought, sent a shock of pain through his system. What if his dad didn't want him there? He was a disappointment to the family, he was always the nuisance. What if this was a fools errand and he would be sent right back without so much as a hug? After all... Nobody likes him. Nobody would ever like him. He was too loud. Too obnoxious, too much for anyone to like. He could feel unshed tears sting at the corner of his eyes. _Don't be silly_, he berated himself. _Mattie called you and told you to come_. _That means you're wanted there, right?_ The doubt lingered.

* * *

Ivan was growing worried. Alfred had just been staring out the window for hours now. He snuck another quick glance and his grip on the steering wheel tightened. Alfred looked to be in pain. He looked so lost and hurt, and Ivan knew those feelings well. It was one of the reasons Ivan felt so connected to the blonde, the shared pain and history. They may not have been tortured at the same time, but tortured by the same man, they were. Ivan vaguely wondered if his ex-father had succeeded with Alfred where he had failed with him. He frowned. This was no time for such thoughts. He needed to distract the American and pull him from his dark thoughts.

"Hmm, Fredka?"

"Yeah...?" The other answered distractedly.

"It is your turn to be telling a fairytale, da?" Ivan smirked as Alfred finally turned to him, abandoning his glaring.

"But! But you haven't finished _your_ story! I wanna know what happens to the snow maiden!" Ivan noticed that Alfred looked rather cute when he pouted...

"Yes, but I am driving. It is less distracting to listen than to tell." Ivan chuckled when Alfred narrowed his eyes at Ivan's logic before huffing and flopping back against the seat.

"Fine." Alfred was silent for a time and as Ivan was about to say something, he smiled.

"I'm not going to tell a fairytale." Alfred stated matter-of-factly.

Ivan furrowed his brow and was going to protest before he was cut off. "I'm going to tell you a legend! I'll tell ya how the earth was created!"

Ivan smiled at Alfred's exuberance and waved a hand to tell him to continue.

Alfred jumped into the legend excitedly.

* * *

"_Many, many moons ago, in the beginning of time, the earth was all water and there was no land. All the animals, all the winged-ones, and all the plants, lived up in the sky on the clouds. They were waiting for the land to dry, but it would not dry._

_They would send one animal, but they would never come back; unable to find dry land. The animals would regularly check the water below._

_Finally, after a dog had looked and reported back that the land was still wet, they sent the water beetle. The beetle dove into the water, grabbed a handful of mud at the bottom and brought it up and placed it on top of the water. The mud was flat and wet. The animals waited for it to dry. And waited and waited._

_Finally, they sent Grandfather Buzzard, the mighty buzzard, down and the land was almost dry. As Grandfather Buzzard flew over the land, every time he flapped his mighty wings it created many mountains and valleys. That's why there are mountains and valleys in the world today._

_All the animals, and winged-ones, and all the plants, settled on the earth._

_After they settled, they realized they had no light and stumbled about the earth. They called to the Great Grandfather and asked if he would give them light. So he did. He brought to them the sun. He set the sun right down on the ground, as it is when it sets. But it was too hot for many of the animals. _

_So they pushed at the sun. They pushed and pushed, till finally they got it far enough away that it would not burn so fiercely all of the time. But in the process the poor crawfish was baked. That is why, if you look at him today, he is red from the sun._

_And Grandfather told them, "Now that I have done this for you, I ask that all the animals and all the winged-ones and all the plants, stay awake for seven days and seven nights." This is why today, when a warrior goes to cross his manhood, he fasts and sweats for seven days._

_Many of the animals and winged-ones and plants could not do as asked and fell asleep, except for some._

_The owl stayed awake and was rewarded with the vision to hunt at night._

_The plants that stay green year round had stayed awake for seven days and seven nights. They were rewarded and that is why they are allowed to stay green when other plants must sleep for part of the year as they fell asleep against Grandfather's wishes. _

_And thus was the beginning of creation and the world soon came to be as it is today."_

* * *

Alfred, though Ivan could only see through his peripheral, liked to tell stories with his hands. The large gestures and the energy with which he told the tale caused a tender smile to grace Ivan's face. The other could be easily excitable and it amused Ivan to no end to see the other bounce off the walls. It could be annoying at times but Ivan liked all the sunny smiles and bright warmth that surrounded the American. Ivan was a rather lonely person and usually he liked to surround himself with others to try and fill the void. But he never succeeded, as those people were always strangers. But with Alfred... he was like the sun with his bright presence. He could light up the room and his personality could fill it. No matter how little Ivan knew about the other, Alfred never felt like the strangers did. The sunflower man just had this _presence_ about him that made Ivan's breath hitch and his heart pound, it filled him with warmth and made his stomach flutter. No one else could do that and Ivan found it exhilarating.

But there was something darker about Alfred. It seemed that Alfred, too, was a rather lonely person. There was an intense sadness about the blonde sometimes, that Ivan could feel. That smile would slip and the depth of pain that crossed his face made Ivan's heart cry out. Ivan hated to see the obnoxious American hurting and he wanted to change whatever it was that hurt the other so badly. There was something broken within Alfred and Ivan was determined to fix it.

* * *

After finishing the legend, the two fell into a contemplative silence. Alfred's mind, and eyes, wandered. His mind wandered to the dream he had had yesterday morning and his eyes wandered to the object of his dream. He wondered where these new feelings had come from, because to him, it felt like left field. And then again... It seemed so _right_. Ivan was definitely handsome, no doubt about that, and the accent was particularly delicious. He could be mean, yes, but it was funny to make him mad sometimes. He teased Alfred a lot, but it was never serious and was always about stupid things, like his hero complex and his belief in aliens. Never the things that truly bothered him. His insults never stung as much as others could, and Alfred appreciated that.

And Ivan knew him. He knew the hell that Alfred went through. That was one of the reasons he could never keep a relationship. They never understood why Alfred would get sketchy sometimes. Why he would twitch from the memories or run at the sight of a needle. And Alfred would never tell them. He couldn't handle that. It was too much for his heart to take. When he liked someone, he wanted to tell them _all_ about himself. He was talkative and he wanted to share his past. But he never could. They wouldn't believe him, they would call him crazy. He could never connect with someone that didn't know the nightmares of his childhood. If he didn't break up with them out of panic, they would break up with _him_ out of frustration.

And for some reason... Ivan was different. Not simply because he knew, but because there was something else beneath the surface that Alfred very much wanted to explore. But he didn't dare. Alfred would usually be very bold about relationships, no matter that he would get hurt in the end, if he wanted to try and be with someone, he would let his feelings be known. But this time... This time, something held him back. Something deeper that he hadn't felt before. What if Ivan hated him for liking him? What if Ivan didn't want a relationship? What if Ivan... _didn't like him_? It made his heart clench and his breath shallow. It hurt to think like that... _You're good for nothing, you're annoying, no one will ever like you, you'll be alone for the rest of your life_. He banished those thoughts and instead settled with trying to unravel the tangled mystery that was Ivan. Ivan was hurting somewhere in that silly Russian head of his, Alfred could tell. Something painful, and something deeper than the more obvious scars. There was something broken in that sexy, crazy, psycho and Alfred was just the hero to fix it.

* * *

Song: Fix You by Coldplay

You have no idea how long I've been waiting to use that song. If this story had a theme song, this would be it. Srsly.

There are some heavy thoughts in this one man. D: I was stuck in the hair salon for THREE HOURS, while my mom and I got our hair cut. :P So, instead of reading my summer reading book like I was supposed to, I wrote this. Heh.

The legend is a Cherokee indian "creation story." Yay, native american heritage~!

Anyway, I made a surprise for you all that may or may not be turned into a story/used in this one. You can find it on my dA account. Search me! I'm ~untalented101

On another note, I filled out one of those Hetalia personality things you can find floating around dA. It's also on my profile as a journal. :| I am a RusAme love child. Swear. Half Russia, half America. You want to take it yourself? Just copy n paste~

Love & Peace!

Gilly B.


	12. My ne angely, paren'

:D Lots of twists and turns in this one~! I hope you guys like the end~ *evil laughter*

So I posted a little fluff to balance this new chapter out. It's a one shot called Love Me Silly, pretty frickin cute. I also started a Hetalia, Harry Potter crossover for Anni~ Live Free or Die Trying. Go check 'em out!

Disclaimer: Yeah, yeah...

WARNINGS: Yaoi, Awesome Prussia, cursing, and a little surprise.

* * *

The feeling of doom could be felt all through out the shabby little motel the heroes of the story were currently in. Neither actually minded the circumstances but would never let the other one know.

"No. You _have_ to have another room!" Alfred protested with a blush as Ivan stood silently behind him. What the fuck, man? Was Karma such a bitch that he didn't even have to do anything _wrong_ for it to come back and bite him in the ass? They couldn't afford another hotel!

"I'm sorry, sir, but with the jelly convention in town we have filled up rather quickly." The snooty manager pushed his glasses further up his nose with a haughty sniff.

"Jelly convention? Really? A JELLY CONVENTION!" Alfred was officially starting to freak the fuck out. The hell? A _Jelly convention_? What does that even _mean_?

"Fredka, please calm yourself or we will not have a place to stay tonight, da?" Ivan placed a hand on Alfred's shoulder, hoping to placate the blonde so he wouldn't get them kicked out.

"Indeed," the manager huffed, holding up the keys. "Do you want the room or not?"

Alfred grumbled before snatching the keys from the manager's hand and stalked off with his luggage. Ivan smiled icily before handing over the money for the room.

"You will not be keeping records of our stay, da? It would be a shame for something to happen to your... establishment."

The manager paled and gulped before nodding vigorously. "Yes, sir. No records."

"Good." Ivan followed after Alfred. His smile widened as he remembered _why_ the blonde had been so frustrated. And he had blushed when protesting! _So cute..._

* * *

Alfred stood at the doorway of their room, having thrown his suitcase in, and was now glaring at the bed. _The_ bed, as in singular. As in there was only _one_ bed in the room. As in he and Ivan would have to _share_. It kind of made him freak out. Just a little. Oh yes, part of him was melting at the thought, sleeping in the same bed as that sexy hunk of Russian? Yes, please. But... It would also be torture. Alfred bit his lip at the thought. What if he let something slip? What if Ivan found out about his feelings and left him on his own? What if Ivan hated him for it? What if...?

The insecurity floating in Alfred's bright blue eyes made Ivan pause. What could be running through that American's mind to make him so unsure of himself? Ivan didn't know, but he had come to a decision. He was going to make a move tonight, even if it could be a long shot he had already decided that he wanted the blonde. Badly. He wanted to be with the silly American and he was going to do anything to get him.

"Fredka..." Alfred jumped as a hand landed on his shoulder. He turned wide eyes to Ivan as he was shaken out of his thoughts. An involuntary blush spread across his face at the concerned look Ivan was giving him.

"Yeah?" Alfred managed to squeak.

"You have a tiny brain so you may not be aware, but you are meant to go _inside_ the room, da?" Ivan smiled as he made his way past the blonde to put his suitcase down beside the bed.

"Uh-huh... Wait-Hey! You jerk!" Alfred stormed in after the Russian and threw his suitcase on the other side of the bed.

Ivan laughed.

* * *

"I don't see what yer on about, I liked it."

"That, Fredka, is because you can stomach anything and everything. You are like black hole, da? Bottomless." Ivan waved his hands for emphasis as Alfred snorted and unlocked the door to their room.

"Psh, your commie taste buds just can't handle _real_ food." Alfred smirked back at the ashy blonde in time to see the smirk adorning his face as well.

Alfred hadn't smiled like this, this much, for a long time, he realized. He sauntered into the room and he heard the thunk of the door closing behind him. His smile faded a bit before he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Fredka..." Ivan was close, so close. Alfred could feel his warmth on his back and it made him shiver. Alfred's breath hitched as he felt Ivan's hair tickle his neck and his nose slide against his skin. Alfred squeezed his eyes shut. _Please don't let this be a dream..._

"Please do not run away. There is something I wish to tell you." Ivan trailed his fingers along Alfred's arm before resting at his wrist, perhaps in some attempt to keep the blonde where he was.

Alfred's heart sped up and a blush rose to his cheeks. "O-okay." He managed to breathe out.

Ivan was suddenly in front of him, intense purple eyes gazing into blue. Ivan's hand made it's way up to cup Alfred's cheek. Alfred's eyes flickered to the hand and back up, blush deepening. Ivan leaned in close.

"I have never met a person like you. You make me feel all these strange things I have never felt before." Ivan's voice was soft and gentle, trying to piece together exactly what he meant.

"You irritate me to no end. You can make me so very angry." Alfred's gaze fell to the floor as he bit his lip, not liking where this was going. _This is where he tells me he hates me, right? Then strangles me to death or something..._

Ivan's other hand came up to completely cradle Alfred's head. Confused by the single tear running down Alfred's cheek, he wiped it away with his thumb without a word.

"But... You are also so bright and sunny. I enjoy being with you, da? I do not feel so alone when I am with you..." Alfred's lips parted in surprise as he looked back up to meet the serious expression on Ivan's face.

"You are like a sunflower... and I wish for you to be _my_ sunflower."

Alfred smiled and a small laugh of joy escaped his lips before he smirked and barked a confident "Hell yeah!" He then proceeded to tackle Ivan onto the mattress. Ivan let loose a laugh as the other hugged him tightly. He liked this, he liked this very much, but there seemed to be something missing... Oh, yes!

"Fredka, dorogoi?" Alfred looked up, a bit confused. "Yeah?" Ivan grinned and again cupped Alfred's face between his hands and leaned in for a chaste kiss. Alfred was shocked before he melted into Ivan kiss and wrapped his arms around the other's neck.

Everything seemed to slow as Ivan's large, warm hands explored Alfred's torso, his back and around the front, everywhere. The kiss ended and Alfred rested his forehead against Ivan's. Heat was building between the two as they gazed into each other's eyes. Alfred's eyelids drooped as he leaned in for another kiss...

"_Disco pogo! Dingelingeling, dingleingeling~ Und alle Atzen sing!"_

Alfred groaned as the obnoxious ring tone made itself known. He shifted away from Ivan before he could slide off the bed.

"_Die Masse rockt, wir sind bekloppt. Wir pogen schockt uns Dr. Rock. Wir baden in der Me-Me-Menge, darauf hab ich Bock~"_

"Don't look at me like that! I didn't chose the song, Gilbert; the most annoying boyfriend my brother could ever have, did!" Alfred grumbled to Ivan as he fished the phone out of the pocket of his jacket.

"Hello?"

"_Haha! Alfred! Birdie told me call you and tell you that our unawesome car broke down. It's going to take us longer to get there."_

"Oh! What're you guys gonna do?"

"_Dunno... Was...? Birdie?"_

"Gilbert? What's going on?"

"_Hold on...Was ist- Birdie!"_

"Gilbert! What the hell is going on?"

"_No! Ge- off! Bir- ah!"_

Static. The line went dead. "Gilbert! Mattie!"

"Fredka, what is happening?" Ivan stood up and moved to stand next to the worried blonde.

"I don't know! They called to tell me that their ride broke down and then Gilbert was shouting and then there was static and then the line went dead and..." Alfred started hyperventilating, what was going on?

"Shh, it is okay, moi podsolnechnik. It will be okay." Just as Ivan was about to put a comforting hand on Alfred's head and hug him close, there was a knock on the door.

"You will calm down and I will get the door, da?" Alfred's breathing slowed a bit as he nodded and made to follow Ivan to see who was knocking.

Ivan opened the door and was stunned to see none other but his dear beloved sister, Katyusha.

"Sestra?" There were tears running down her face.

"I am so sorry, brother. So sorry."

Ivan started to back up, holding out a protective arm to Alfred. The last he had seen of his sister was with his father. Winter might still have a hold on her.

"What are you sorry for, sestra?"

"Oh, Vanya..."

"Shut up you whiny bitch. We're here to get the job done." Ivan was shocked to see an almost exact replica of his sister moving to stand behind her. There were differences though; a low cut navy blue dress that emphasized her ample bosom and cut open to allow her naked legs to show, bright red high-heeled boots, a dark sneer painted blood red, and the most obvious of all being the glowing neon green eyes.

"Y-yes. I know."

"Then do it." The doppelganger snapped. Ivan backed away further, Alfred following as he had no idea what was going on but could tell it wasn't good.

Katyusha held up a pitch fork that he hadn't seen before and swung it around so that the sharp ends rested under his chin. His sister was still for a moment before her eyes bored into his.

"Sleep."

The world went black.

* * *

Song: My ne angely, paren' by Alexey Ponomarev...? I think. *sigh* It's getting sooo freakin hard to find songs in Russian for this! Anyone wanna help?

xD Gilbert's ringtone: Disco Pogo by Frauenarzt and Manny Marc (The most random song I thought fit Prussia. lol You guys should go take a listen~)

So, yay! Their feelings are known~! :D

So, uhm, the end there... Do any of you know what the 2nd Players are? *smile* They're, from what I gather, psycho-killer opposites of our dear little nations. I didn't find any designs for a 2p!Ukraine so I just used my own headcannon. *shrugs* Yes, there will be a semi-logical explaination as to how they exist. I'll give you three gueses. :)

Oh! And reminder: Miss Yaketerina can control emotions, and by extension... States of consciousness.

Questions?

Gilly B.


	13. Cuppy Cakes and Gasoline

:D Unlucky chapter 13~!

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, or any of the songs, or even the design for Oliver. I _did_ come up with most of the human names though...

WARNINGS: Language, violence, and 2p!characters

* * *

_Earlier..._

* * *

"Francis! Have you seen any of my bloody papers? I have to grade them before..." Arthur trailed off as he opened the door to darkness. It was strange. Francis was supposed to have gotten home early today and would have turned the lights on if he'd made it. It gave Arthur a creepy feeling. The feeling worsened as he heard noises from the kitchen. _Relax it's probably only Francis_... His breath hitched in fear when he heard the noises more clearly.

"_Miss Lucy had some leeches, her leeches liked to suck..."_

"F-Francis?" Arthur tentatively made his way into the kitchen. Light was pouring in from the window in between but Arthur couldn't make out who was singing, only a shadow.

"_And when they drank up all her blood she didn't give a..."_

He could hear the mixer start up as he peeked in through the window. The was a man making something, but the man was definitely _not_ Francis, nor any of his brothers. It was actually like he was staring at his own back...

"_Funny when the doctors had locked her in her cell..."_

Arthur dared not stray into the kitchen, but then... Who...?

"_Miss Lucy screamed all night that they should go to bloody..."_

The other turned and Arthur gasped. What...

"_Hello to the surgeon with scalpel old and blunt..."_

Arthur was staring into a crazed mirror of himself. The mixer in his hand was still spinning, splattering blood across the kitchen.

"_He'll tie you to the table, then mutilate your..."_

The mirror grinned maliciously as he kept singing.

"_Come, it's nearly tea time, the lunatics arrive..."_

The oven dinged and the mirror quickly turned and pulled out the pan with his bare hand, still grinning all the while. He turned to a plate of already made cupcakes and held them out to Arthur.

"Cupcake, love?" The mirror paused in his song to pick up a cupcake and forcefully shove it in Arthur's face, shocking the other.

"Who are you?" Arthur questioned as he backed up against the wall. The mirror was just like him, proper clothes if in in pastel pink with a neon blue bow-tie to match his depraved eyes. The other pushed Arthur hard against the wall and forced him to the ground before whispering in his ear. "I'm you."

"_The keepers bleed them all until there's no one left a..."_

The other wrapped a hand around Arthur's jaw and squeezed until it popped open without Arthur's consent. Arthur could only glare at the other, too paralyzed with shock and fear to even begin to struggle.

"But you can call me Oliver~!" Oliver giggled as he shoved another cupcake into Arthur's face, this time into his mouth.

"_Lively little rodents are eaten up by cats..."_

Oliver worked Arthur's jaw a bit before shoving yet another cupcake down Arthur's throat. No matter how much he didn't want to swallow, he had no choice if he didn't want to suffocate.

"_We're subject to experiments like laboratory..."_

The world started to fade and Arthur began to struggle. Damn those drugged cupcakes! He didn't know what the hell was going on or who this lunatic was, but he would probably find out soon...

"_Rats! I've dropped a teacup, how easily they break..."_

Arthur cried out in pain as he felt the other snap the bones in his finger. There was a demented giggle as the world finally faded black.

"_I'm on my hands and knees until I pay for my mis..."_

Oliver stopped singing as he heard a door slam shut in the distance. Oh how lovely! Perhaps they would be done here soon? He wanted to use something more _lethal_ for his cupcakes...

"Jacques? Is that you darling?" Oliver crooned out, calling for his lover.

"Oui." Was the grumpy reply as the Frenchman ambled into the doorway, a bloody Francis flung over his shoulder and a lit cigarette hanging from his lips. His eyes, a glowing pink, had bags underneath them.

"Oh, you lovely man! Now I'll have enough blood for my cupcakes~! I hope the master will be pleased." Oliver twirled around in joy before scooping up a cupcake and licking at the frosting. Jacques simply grunted at his antics and pulled up Arthur in his grasp as well, carrying them out the door.

"I wonder how the boys are doing...?"

* * *

_Later..._

* * *

"Maple," Matthew coughed as smoke billowed out from the hood of the car. "This is going to take forever to fix..."

"Nothing a bit of awesome me can't fix!" Gilbert boasted from his perch on the roof of the car. He was about to jump down and start to work on the vehicle when he caught the look his boyfriend was giving him.

"Gil, dear, the last time you tried to fix the car you managed to set it on fire. Repeatedly."

Gilbert was a bit put out before he smirked down at Matthew. "But I set _you_ on fire in the _bedroom_ every night," he leered. "Repeatedly."

Gilbert laughed as the poor Canadian blushed and started to fluster about. "G-Gilbert! That wasn't even clever!"

The self-proclaimed Prussian rolled about on the roof, "Ach! You wound me, Birdie."

Matthew raised a fist to the other and shook it weakly. "You betcha you hoser! Keep it up, you pervert!" They both burst into laughter at the light banter.

The blonde shook his head with a chuckle before he sighed and shut the hood of the car with a thunk. "Hey Gil? Will you call Al and tell him we're delayed while I call someone to help with the car?"

"Sure thing, Birdie." Gilbert flicked open his cell and dialed the number as his eyes flickered around the scene. Tree... Tree... Tree. Oh look! Another tree! They were in the middle of a fucking forest! Nothing but trees and leaves...

_"Hello?"_

"Haha! Alfred! Birdie told me to call you and tell you that our unawesome car broke down. It's going to take us longer to get there." Gilbert, standing on the roof of the car, nonchalantly looked about him as he answered.

"_Oh! What're you guys gonna do?" _

Gilbert shrugged. "Dunno..." There was something rustling in the bushes. It didn't seem like an animal. "Was..?" Gilbert floated up to survey more of the forest. He didn't see Matthew. "Birdie?"

"_Gilbert? What's going on?"_ He could hear the worry in the other's voice but he couldn't do anything about it now.

"Hold on..." Gilbert swooped down where he heard more rustling. There was a shock of white hidden in the leaves... "Was ist- Birdie!" He spotted Matthew! He spotted his boyfriend being dragged off into the foliage by... him?!

"_Gilbert! What the hell is going on?"_

Gilbert felt something thwack the back of his head. "No! Get off!" He dropped the phone in his attempt to remove the bloody hockey stick that was now pressed against his throat. "Birdie! Ah!" A black booted foot came down on the phone, crushing one of his bids for help.

"Who are you?" Gilbert growled to his assailant. What the fuck was going on?

"Name's Louis." Gilbert struggled against the other's hold, pulling at the stick cutting off his oxygen. "Try it." Louis spat. "I _dare_ you."

Before Gilbert could snark a reply, his seeming doppelganger appeared from the bushes, dragging an unconscious Matthew behind him.

"Birdie!"

"Shut up, you little fucker. I don't have the patience for this." The hockey stick was quickly replaced with the barrel of a gun at the back of his head. Gilbert's eyes widened, more at his twin than the weapon change.

"Louis! This guy's _heavy_! Why do _I _have to carry him?" Gilbert's other self whined. How unawesome. He looked like a watered-down version of his awesome self. His posture was deflated and worn-down. Everything about this guy seemed... down. His eyes were the only thing that were bright, because instead of the ruby-red Gilbert had, his twin had fluorescent silver.

"Fritz? How many fucks do I give?" Louis growled, pulling aside branches and bramble to reveal a working car waiting for them. He shoved Gilbert down into the car, gun still pressed against the back of his head.

"None..." The so-called Fritz sighed as he slung Matthew's body in beside Gilbert. "Hey, Louis? Shouldn't he do something about him?" Fritz pointed at Gilbert.

"Probably." Louis then proceeded to clock Gilbert on the back of the head with the gun. Gilbert slumped in the seat.

Louis pulled off his black sunglasses to reveal glowing red eyes. He slammed the door behind Gilbert and seated himself behind the wheel, waiting for Fritz. He glanced over as his sullen counterpart plopped into his seat and shut his door.

Louis pulled down his shades again before changing gear and stomping on the gas.

"Let's go."

* * *

Songs used: "Dirty Night Clowns" by Chris Garneau and "Gasoline" by Porcelain and the Tramps

Creepy song Oliver sings: "Miss Lucy Had Some Leeches" by Emilie Autumn

:D Confused yet? Good. Me too.

You guys make me so happy with the reviews~ I roll around on my bed like Holy Rome, I'm so happy!

Anyway, bad news. Birthdays. Too many people I know are born, like, THIS week. Birthday parties galore! And then... DUN DUN DUN. School. Eugh. Updates are gonna slow, but don't worry! They'll still be coming! I promise~

Oliver- 2p!England

Jacques- 2p!France

Louis (pronounced Louie) - 2p!Canada

Fritz - 2p!Prussia

It was really a challenge to get the 2p! personalities right, or even guessing what they would be like (Prussia). Cause they're NOT _just_ opposites of our favorite little characters... They're their own person as well, even if they don't realize it yet...

Cupcakes, dears? HAHAHAHAHAAA~

Gilly B.


	14. Pod Oknom Cheremukha Kolyshetsya

:D Whoo~ New chapter~ Guess who just got their learner's permit? Me! D: Now I have to learn to drive, something I was avoiding at ALL COSTS. Meh.

Disclaimer: Mlkjlakdfj

WARNINGS: Cursing

* * *

Ivan and Alfred, now blindfolded, were shoved into a room. Their hands were still bound behind their back and Alfred was struggling fiercely.

"Let us out!" Alfred screamed. "You can't keep us in here!"

Silence answered them as they were jostled around. Ivan ended up pushed to his knees while Alfred was able to keep his balance, still standing. Ivan could almost hear the soft sobs of his sister before there was a heavy metal slam and the jingling of keys as they were locked in.

"Let us out!" Alfred's voice reached near hysterics. "LET US OUT!"

"Fredka!" Ivan snapped. "Yelling will do us no good!"

Alfred suddenly toppled over in the dark and could feel Ivan's shoulder digging into his stomach briefly before his back hit the ground.

"And why won't it?" Alfred spat. "It's better than sitting there and taking it like a _bitch_."

Ivan growled low in his throat. "Watch what you say, _dorogoi_."

"OR WHAT?" Alfred screeched from his position on the floor. "WE'RE ALREADY GOING TO FUCKING DIE!"

"IF YOU DO NOT SHUT UP THIS INSTANT I MAY KILL YOU BEFORE THEY DO!" Ivan clenched his fists behind his back and turned angrily in the direction Alfred's voice was.

"GO AHEAD AND TRY IT." Alfred rolled around until he was able to get into a sitting position, tensing in anticipation for a fight.

"Perhaps I will," Ivan threatened. He shifted around searching out the other in the blackness.

"Some body guard you are," Alfred hissed. "Aren't you supposed to _protect_ me?"

"So I am back to simply being your guard, Fredka?" Ivan's voice was softer than it had been during the shouting match, desolate almost. The pain Alfred could hear laced within shocked him back to reality, clearing his head from the fog of panic and anger.

"I..." Alfred trailed off. "I didn't mean that..."

"Of course you didn't." Ivan snapped as he pulled his knees up to his chest.

"I'm sorry." Alfred whispered, reaching out to find Ivan, to no avail.

"Do not say that," Ivan growled. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

Alfred whimpered a bit at the harsh words. The darkness and fear were starting to get to him, the panic was starting to rise again. He could almost _feel_ the monsters in his mind closing in on him in the inky black that surrounded.

"Ivan. Please don't. _Please._ I'm scared and I'm sorry and I didn't _mean it_. Just, _please_." Alfred reached out yet again, searching for his solace in the night. Was it not just a few hours ago that they asking each other to be together? Hadn't they settled their feelings for each other? They couldn't just go back to being strangers after that.

"Do not plead with me in such a manner, moi slodvakee. It pains me to hear." Ivan murmured as he too went in search for the other. Their feet tangled together until they tumbled, back against back.

"I'm scared," Alfred rasped out. The darkness seemed to be closing in.

"I know." Ivan began to fiddle with the ropes around his wrists. He pushed back against the other until his fingers fluttered over the American's. He felt a flush of triumph. Alfred, having realized what Ivan was doing, moved his hand in a circular motion, loosening his own ropes. Rationality set in yet again as he focused on his task.

"Scoot a little closer so I can untie your knots." Alfred commanded. Ivan gave a soft, surprised grunt as he shifted more.

"You are able to do that?" Alfred chuckled as he gently felt around the ropes, searching for said knots.

"Well sure. Been tied up plenty a times."

"I am not sure how to take that, Fredka."

Alfred laughed.

* * *

It was dark, pitch black. Alfred couldn't see _anything_. It brought him back to places he never wanted to be again. The only thing preventing him from completely freaking out was the warmth of Ivan's chest against his back and the strength of the arms wrapped around his waist.

"Ivan...?" Alfred whispered.

"Da?" Their voices seemed overly loud in the darkness.

"I'm the hero, okay? And cause I'm the hero, I'll get us out of this. We'll survive, somehow. Okay?"

"Da." The words seemed bittersweet. Escape seemed like a distant hope that was blocked off by the darkness. Alfred shivered in the cold and curled up closer to Ivan. Ivan's grip on the American tightened.

"Ivan...?" Alfred whispered again into the darkness.

"Da?" They seemed to be on repeat, as the cold invaded and the darkness surrounded. They had been locked in here for days, slowly dieing from starvation. The most they had was water that was slipped to them through a small crack in what they assumed was the door. They couldn't tell for it was always dark. Always.

"Will you... finish that fairytale you told me?" That time in the apartment that wasn't theirs yet had been their home, not matter how brief, seemed like eons ago.

"Da..."

* * *

"_In the forest the children picked wild flowers and made themselves wreaths. It was warm, and they ran about singing, each wearing a crown of flowers._

_"Look at us!" they shouted. "Come play with us," they urged the snow maiden. "Follow us."_

_They went on, dancing and singing. Then all of a sudden, behind them, a sigh. _

_They turned and looked. There was nothing to be seen but a fast melting heap of snow. The snow maiden was no longer among them. _

_They called and called and shouted her name, but there was no answer._

_"Where can she be? She must have gone home," they said. _

_Back they ran to the village, but no one there had seen her either. _

_During the next day and the following, everyone searched. They went through the woods and looked through every thicket, but no trace of the little snow maiden was to be found. _

_Vanya and Marousha felt that their hearts would break, and for a long time Marousha cried, "Snegourka, my sweet snow maiden, come to me!"_

_Sometimes Vanya and Marousha thought-"_

* * *

The story was interrupted by a loud clanging and weak curses strung together.

"What are you going to do with us now, wankers?" A voice rasped, dry and scratchy.

"Tiddlywinks! Aren't you a mean one? I'm doing you a favor, poppet!" Came the enigmatic reply, high and grating on the nerves and almost unhinged.

"I do not see what you would 'ave to gain by 'elping us." Another weak and raspy voice sounded out.

There was the sound of flesh hitting flesh and a grunt of pain, before the sugar-coated tongue replied again. "Ohhh, Jacques! You didn't have to be so rough with him~! We're here to help remember?"

"Oui," was the forced out anwser. There was more banging before a small stream of light filtered in through the door. Alfred gasped as his eyes adjusted and he recognized the figures being shoved into the room with them.

"Papa? Daddy?"

* * *

Song: ПОД ОКНОМ ЧЕРЁМУХА КОЛЫШЕТСЯ - traditional Russian folk tale

xD TWO SENTENCES! TWO! That's how close we are to finishing Snegourka.

For some reason, I make Jacques mute besides saying "Oui." Weird.

Anyway, just in case you didn't know...

dorogoi - dear

moi slodvakee - my sweet

Until next time, broskis

Gilly B.


	15. Grisly Reminder

*dies* Longest. Chapter. Ever. I'm not too happy with the first part, but I really liked the ending. :D My writing is _definitely _improving.

Went through my first day of school friday, and this is what happens! xD

Disclaimer: Gah.

WARNINGS: :U

* * *

"Alfred? Oh God, Alfred!"Arthur's voice pierced the darkness. "Tell me you're alright, lad."

"I'm holdin' up, Daddy." Alfred coughed, sharp and harsh. It had been a while since they last had water.

"These are your parents, Fredka?" Ivan questioned and Alfred answered with a soft affirmative hum.

"Mon petit, who is that I hear?" Francis called, his voice was scratchy too.

Before anyone could reply, clanging was heard near the door again and a glowing light was shoved into the room. For the first time, after their eyes adjusted, they could see a small barred window near the top of the door where light sticks were still being pushed through. Alfred being the first to react picked up one of the... glow-sticks? He held it up to the bars to see if whomever had given it to them was still there. He was greeted by a mirror image of himself, the other's expression blank if slightly angry.

"I would appreciate it that you _not_ shine the light in my face." There was no energy in the other's voice and for some reason it unnerved Alfred. He pulled the light back. Alfred stood and studied the other more. His copy looked just like him, save for two details. Instead of wire rimmed eyeglasses, to other wore red tinted sunglasses that just barely hid his dull, glowing orange eyes. "Who _are_ you?"

"My name is Franklin, fuck you very much. Most will call me Frank." Frank's tone was monotonous, bored almost, even with the insult thrown in. Before Alfred could mutter another word, the other stalked off. Slightly dazed and very confused, Alfred turned back to the others in the cell, only to find them having what seemed to be a staring contest. Alfred nearly burst in laughter at the expressions they all held. Ivan looked curious and intimidated and nervous all at the same time. Arthur looked pissed off for some reason and was glaring daggers at Ivan. Francis was wiggling his eyebrows at Ivan.

Alfred chuckled as he moved back and plopped himself onto Ivan's lap, surprising everyone. Francis' eyebrows stopped wriggling and shot up to his hairline. Arthur's glare intensified. Ivan smiled softly and wrapped his arms around Alfred. Alfred smiled obliviously.

"So, umm, since we're stuck in here... I guess there's no beatin' around the bush, huh? Well, Dad, Papa, this is Ivan Braginsky." Alfred picked up a glow-stick and held it up over the Russian. "Ivan, this is my Dad, Arthur Kirkland," Alfred swished the glow-stick in Arthur's direction, "and my Papa, Francis Bonnefoy," he repeated the gesture toward Francis.

A thought occurred to Alfred, interrupting the introductions. "Dad!" Arthur looked startled by the shout. "Yes, lad?" Alfred climbed out of Ivan's lap to crawl closer to Arthur and look him over. A few bruises, but nothing serious. Nothing that would put him in the hospital.

"How come you ain't hurt?"

"Aren't, Alfred," Arthur immediately corrected, "What do you mean by, hurt? I don't understand the question, love."

"We got caught cause Mattie called and told us you were in the hospital and we were all comin' down to see if you were all right! But... Yer not in the hospital..." Alfred trailed off as Arthur and Francis' eyes widened. Realization hit Alfred again as he remembered the phone call from Gilbert. They were captured too. They had his whole family.

"It seems that the family is all here, non? I assume that Mattieu and his amour will be joining us soon." Francis said gently, head bowed. Arthur simply nodded and leaned to the side until he was pressed against Francis. Francis wrapped and arm around him.

"They tricked us. Tricked us good." Alfred crawled back to Ivan, curling up between his legs with his head against the Russian's warm chest and one hand splayed over his heart. Ivan took the hand and entwined their fingers, his other hand coming up to run his fingers through Alfred's hair.

Arthur forced a very loud cough to get their attention, he was back to glaring into Ivan's soul. Ivan smiled back pleasantly, with an edge of darkness. Alfred squeezed his hand to get him to behave.

"Alfred," Arthur switched his glare to his son, "would you care to tell us something?"

Alfred smirked cheekily and nuzzled his head against Ivan's chest. "No, not really."

Francis chuckled and Arthur huffed, crossing his arms. "Fine." Arthur muttered, deciding to play the game. "How did you meet Mr. Ivan then?"

"On the street," Alfred began. He loved to annoy his father, it was one of his favorite pastimes! "I thought he was out to kill me, but he really works for Grandpa Roma."

Ivan's hand squeezed his own as Ivan growled. "You were very infuriating. Running into traffic and then insulting me." Ivan chuckled. "But I got you back, da?"

Alfred lifted his head, "Yeah! Scaring the hell out of me, like that! It was freakin' creepy when you just showed up on my doorstep." Alfred pouted. "How was I supposed to know you worked fer Roma?"

"So you work for the Don?" There was a tension in Arthur's shoulders that no one had noticed that relaxed when Ivan nodded his head. "Good."

"Don't! Please don't hurt him!" There was a whispery voice under the current of curses, clanging, and the sound of something heavy being dragged along the floor.

"He was being loud." Someone whined. "If he had alerted the master... Things would be all over. Not that I wish they weren't already." The dragging sound ceased and was replaced by the light tinkle of keys.

"Shut the fuck up, Fritz." The slow scrape of key in lock.

"What did I do _now_?" The door shrieked as it was slowly pushed open.

"Nothing you little bitch. I just don't want to hear your whiny ass voice anymore."

A body was shoved through the door with a thump. Alfred immediately recognized it as Gilbert's. There was a second thump and a whimper before the door slammed yet again. Alfred couldn't see another body.

"Gil." A whispered plea. "Gil, wake up!" They could see Gilbert's face moving back and forth and hear the light smack of someone slapping his face, but there was still no sight of another person.

"Mattie?" Alfred called into the corner of the cell the pair had landed. That sure sounded like his brother...

There was a sharp gasp and an answering "Al?"

"Mattieu!" Francis scrambled for Gilbert's body, where he was sure Matthew was near. He patted the floor, looking for any sign of his invisible son.

"Here, Papa." Francis felt the warm weight of a hand on his shoulder and reached for it.

"Oh, Mattieu." Francis enveloped the invisible boy in his arms and held him tight. He could feel wet droplets on his shoulder as his son began to cry. "Quel est le problème mon enfant?"

"W-we tried to escape, P-Papa. G-Gilbert made s-s-such a fuss and this guy that looked j-_just_ like Alfie h-hit him over the head with a bloody b-baseball bat! Then th-those guys out there, Louis and F-F-Fritz, brought us h-here."

Francis rocked him back and forth as Arthur joined them. Alfred curled up against Ivan again, holding back in the face of his brother's tears.

Ivan was silent through this, his eyes wide as his mind processed what was in front of him. Alfred's brother was... invisible. His father's experimentation had worked. He didn't know what to feel about it. He was sad, very sad, that the brother's had gone through such torture at the hands of that monster. There was also a pang of jealousy and worthlessness. Why had it worked for them when he was left to be a failure? Was there just something wrong with him? But there was also excitement. Definitely excitement... and hope. They might make it out of here yet.

"Fredka..." he murmured low enough not to disturb the others.

"Yeah, big guy?" Alfred turned in his position between Ivan's outspread legs and gazed up at the Russian.

"You did not tell me..." Ivan trailed off, not sure how to phrase what he meant.

"Tell ya what?" Alfred tilted his head in curiosity.

"That it worked." Alfred turned away, glancing back at his family. His brother was slowly becoming visible again as he calmed down, almost like he was fading back into existence.

"You never asked!" Alfred protested. He sat facing the tall Russian, legs splayed and crossing over Ivan's own. His hands dropped to the cold floor.

"I did not wish to pry, but I am now." Ivan lifted Alfred's chin to look into his sparkling blue eyes. His thumb stroked the blonde's jaw for comfort. "What did he do to you, moi podsolnechnik? What powers did he inject you with?"

"Super strength." Alfred whispered, his eyes cast down and his posture vulnerable. His powers were something he really didn't like to think about. They were a curse, something vile. It's not like he could use them anyway... He cringed at the memories of blood and snow.

Ivan's hand snapped up to grip his shoulder. "We have been sitting here, doing _nothing_, when you could have used such strength to escape from this _hell_?!"

Alfred's own hand shot up and clenched the hand on his, his face full of fury. He opened his mouth to speak before someone else answered for him.

"He can't!" Matthew, now fully visible wrapped in Francis' arms, was glaring at Ivan, whose grip had tightened on Alfred's shoulder.

"What do you mean, he _can't_? We could be _free_ right now! We could have escaped long ago!" Ivan's hand released Alfred attempted yet again to swat it away, however angry with the blonde he was, he didn't want to hurt him.

"No." was Alfred's desolate whisper. "I really can't. I'm sorry Ivan. But I _can't_." His fingers came up to clutch at his scalp, gripping his hair and pressing down on his skull as if that would keep the memories away. _All the blood. There had been so much. All his fault. It was all his fault. Monster. He was a MONSTER._

Ivan stopped short when he noticed the state Alfred was in. Something wasn't right here... Something bad had happened, and the rest of the family knew it. His lips pressed together in a thin line and his eyes filled with sadness. It was not a problem to mess with right now. He wrapped his arms around the American again, pulling him close against his chest. "It is not your fault, Fredka. I apologize. I just wish to be free of here. My death will be certain in this place. My _father_," Ivan spat the word like it was a curse, "will be wanting my head."

Alfred pressed even closer to the Russian, burying his face into Ivan's ever-present scarf. Ivan couldn't die. No way! He wouldn't let it happen. He briefly felt the flow of energy rise up in his veins and his breath caught. No. Not after what he did to Mattie. He was so conflicted. Let the power take hold or be the hero he needed to be? Could he stand to be the villain if it meant being a hero in the end?

"Your father?" Arthur questioned the Russian. "He _works_ here? In this... this... _hell_?"

Ivan gave a grim nod as he gently worked the fingers from Alfred's scalp, rubbing soothing circles onto the sore areas his fingers had been. "Not only that. He _created_ this hell. My father was General Winter himself."

In the shocked silence Francis could only mutter, "Was?"

"That monster is no longer my father. He disowned me the day they labeled me a failure. I had disowned _him_ many days before that."

"Scheiße!" The harsh curse suddenly filled the room. "Wo bin ich? Ich bin...?" Gilbert sat up, rubbing his head. Matthew disentangled himself from his father's arms and crawled to the self-proclaimed Prussian.

"They moved us to another cell, Gil." Matthew instantly latched on to his boyfriend and held him close.

"Birdie! Was ist going on?" Gilbert's gaze drifted around the oddly colored cell, arms automatically pulling his birdie into a tight embrace. He noticed the strange colors were coming from the multicolored glow-sticks that littered the floor, casting the cell in an eerie parody of the Northern Lights. His gaze landed on Francis and Arthur, his birdie's parents. They were sitting not far from them, side by side. Francis gave him a wink which he returned with a smirk. Arthur glared as he always did. Gilbert's gaze shifted again, this time to a far corner where he was surprised to find Mattie's brother being gently cradled by a giant of a man.

"Really, _was_ ist going on?" Gilbert repeated the question to the room at large. "Und who are you?" Gilbert tilted his head in the giant's direction.

"I am Ivan Braginsky. Pleasure to meet you." Ivan was still preoccupied with calming his sweet little American down. The other had screwed his eyes shut and was holding Ivan's scarf in a death grip.

"Und was are you doing here?"Gilbert gestured to the others in the cell. It was less a question on why he was captured and in the cell, but more of why he was included in this little family reunion.

Ivan looked up and Alfred's eyes snapped open. There was that elephant again, finding his way back into the room. Alfred blushed but waited for Ivan to answer the question. How was the other going to answer?

"I am... I am Alfred's... boyfriend." Ivan's cheeks reddened slightly and looked down at the blonde for confirmation. He didn't want to overstep his boundaries and chase the other away. Alfred's smile was bright in the looming darkness, memories of bloodshed temporarily chased away by the warm feeling tingling down his spine and the butterflies dancing in his stomach. Ivan smiled softly in return.

"Da. Fredka's boyfriend."

There was the sudden screech of protesting metal as some of their captors filed in. Arthur recognized his double, Oliver, and what must have been Francis's. Gilbert glared at his mirror and Matthew's. Alfred turned and stared curiously at his doppelganger and another who was probably Ivan's. The air in the cell grew thin as everyone rearranged. Ivan sat at one corner with Alfred in his lap. Beside them was Arthur who was crushed up against Francis. Matthew was beside them, leaning against Gilbert who lounged against the opposite corner. Each sat directly across from their twin.

"What _are_ you?" The question that had been hanging in the air finally broke forth from Alfred's lips.

The obnoxiously peppy Brit answered him. "I'm Oliver, and this is Jacques." He motioned to the silent Frenchman beside him. "Over there is Louis and Fritz." Louis flipped them off and Fritz scowled. "And this is Frank and Nikolai!" Both stared back with a blank expression. Neither moved.

"He didn't say _who_, you little twat, he said _what_. Answer the damn question." Arthur groused at the happy blonde.

"So mean!" Oliver pouted. "But I suppose I'll tell you anyway!" His demented smile reached all the way across his face. All the other's eyes were shining even brighter with the low-light of the glow-sticks. Neon blue, toxic purple, fiery red, gun-shot silver, blazing orange, and acidic yellow.

"We're _you_, silly. Can't you tell?" There was a pause. "We're _clones_."

* * *

Song: Grisly Reminder by Midnight Syndicate (REALLY AWESOME-SAUCE SONG. It sets a nice, dark undertone to everything...)

Whew~! xD I _really_ wanted to end with that, so I did! Long chapter is long. :3

Good news, due to a sudden fit of inspiration... This story is no where near close to ending. I was actually planning on having it winding down after a boss battle with Winter yadda yadda yadda, but then I was struck with a wicked idea and shall be much longer~! Yeah. Not telling you what though... No, it wasn't the clone thing... I had that planned out when I introduced them~ :D It's something a bit more complex.

Okay! Couple translations?

_Quel est le problème mon enfant?_ - Member, waaay back in LMF? It means, basically, What's the matter my child?

_Scheisse!_ - Shit! _Wo bin ich? Ich bin...?_ - Where am I? I am...? _Was ist_ - What is

Any questions? Concerns? General statements of love? :D Then review! Or pm me, I don't mind~! (Or bite (hard))

Bleh, I will be LOADED with work, so again with the statements of slow updates. XD I can't wait for U.S. History though, I'll be giggling about chibimerica the whole time. Or bawling my eyes out. Whatever. Only problem is that it's a Dual Enrollment class. I have it back and forth with English III AP. It's a friggin college level class. There will be sooo much work. Then I have German II~ *giggle* Then Psychology and Sociology. :P (Class is a schnoozer, I'm stuck in there with all the "stupid" kids) and then Algebra II College Prep. So, my work load will be pretty full. But I promise to write as much as I can!

THIS FIC WILL BE EPICALLY EPIC IF IT'S THE LAST THING I DO! *hero pose*

Hugs and kisses~

Gilly B.


	16. Sweet Dreams

LOOK~! AN UPDATE! WOW! Ahem, important notes at the bottom, kay?

WARNINGS: Language(no really, that Louis has a real bad potty mouth!), Hinted GerIta, suggested LouisxFritz, hinted NikolaixFranklin, eh.

DISCLAIMER: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooo o Oeeeeeewwwwwwwwnnnnnnnnnah.

* * *

"CLONES?!" Alfred shouted. "The fuck is wrong with that bastard? He made _clones _of us?!"

"Well, what did you think we were? Aliens? That's just-" Oliver was interrupted by a slap upside the head from Louis. Oliver rubbed his head and was going to protest when a stern glare from the angry Canadian hushed him. Louis turned back to the others.

"Yes, clones." Louis leaned forward, glaring at the group across from him with a sneer. "We're all of them too, besides that prissy bitch, Irunya. She's standing guard."

"Why? Why are all of you here?" Arthur was skeptical of the clones, they were slaves to Winter after all and when concerning that _bastard_ you couldn't trust anyone.

"Help," Franklin stated blankly.

"Why would you want to help us?" Alfred tilted his head in confusion, much like a puppy.

"Not for _you_. For _us_." Louis paused and patted his pockets before Fritz held out a lollipop. Louis snatched it up and stuck it in his mouth before continuing. "Do I look like the type of person to just bow down and say, 'oh yes Master, please, fuck me in the ass! I'm your loyal bitch!' Hell no. That's Fritz's job." "Hey!" Louis paused to point the sucker intimidatingly at each non-clone. "So don't assume this is for you. This is for me. Because, unlike you, I don't like to be fucked in the ass."

"That was rather crude," Arthur stated before rubbing his temples and sighing. "Would you care to explain further? Perhaps with more... gentle language?"

"There's _nothing_ gentle about Louis." Fritz sighed from his corner, an almost dreamy look on his face. No one really wanted to ask, especially with the sadistic grin that spread across Louis' face. Gilbert shuddered in disgust, muttering something about being completely unawesome.

"We are wasting time, da? What is it that brought you to us?" Ivan questioned.

"You," Louis waved his lollipop around. "Well, _most_ of you," he leered in Ivan's direction, "have powers that can help us escape this fucking death camp. We want out. You can help with that."

"How?" Arthur leaned in. "And why should we want to help you?"

"_Because~_!" Oliver trailed out the word. "We know what's going on! And we have powers of our own! Isn't it just peachy?"

"Peachy _keen_." Arthur rolled his eyes. "What can you do?"

Fritz answered first. He pointed to Gilbert. "Gilbo over there can fly und manipulate objects, making _them_ fly. He _lifts_ them, makes them lighter. I do the opposite. I make them heavier. Not the most useful of things..." Fritz trailed off, unhappy with himself.

"I can slow down time. Don't ask me how that fucking works out in opposite of that bitch over there," Louis waved his lollipop toward Matthew. "It just does. End of story."

Jacques said nothing.

Oliver smiled. "Arthur can contact the fae, yes? I," a shadow fell over Oliver's face, casting his hair a paler shade of blonde and set his eyes to glow all the more fiercely, showing just the barest hint of pink in the swirling blue, "can contact the _dead_."

Arthur pursed his lips. "Pleasant."

"Absolutely!" Oliver's demeanor lightened yet again.

Franklin shrugged as all attention moved to him. "Break things down, I guess. Hell if I know."

Nikolai stared blankly ahead, only shifting when Franklin reached over and took his hand. Nikolai held on tightly to the other and said nothing still. Frank answered for him. "He can't do anything as far as we know." Franklin showed his first hint of emotion as his expression softened and his hand clenched. His voice came out in a whisper. "You think he would have _some_ sort of power, after all the chemicals Winter pumped into him. But at this point..." His voice dropped even lower. "He's lucky to be alive."

Alfred looked down the line and took in the faces of his family before turning back and stating firmly, "We'll help."

"Alfred!" The others protested.

"We can help them. They can help us. We both _need_ to escape. Plus..." Alfred smiled jauntily at his family. "It's the heroic thing to do!"

Ivan smiled and the others groaned. "You are very stupid sometimes, Fredka. But I think you are right on this matter."

"Fine!" Arthur threw up his hands in frustration. "We'll help!"

"Ohonhonhon~ It will be a truly brilliant escape!"

"The awesome me vill be the most awesome of all und defeat all the unawesome enemies!"

"So," Alfred smiled. "All we need is a plan..."

* * *

Warm sunlight drifted through the large window, basking the room in a light glow and illuminating the young Italian man that sat in front of a tall blank canvas, paintbrush poised and dreamy smile in place. The Italian, Feliciano Vargas, was very happy indeed that day. His best friend, Ludwig, of whom he had had a very large crush, had finally confessed and their very first date would be this evening. Feli sighed in contentment as he thought about what he could paint on the daunting canvas. His muse was being very illusive as of late. His thoughts strayed once again to his stern German boyfriend when they struck on Luddi's brother, Gilbert, and the room shifted.

The birdsong that had been filtering in suddenly went mute, the sunshine turned to shadow and the world turned on its axis. Feliciano's eyes clouded over and his expression went slack. As if in a trance, he dipped his brush in the paint and began to fill the canvas with the future...

It took all of five minutes with paint splattered about the room. When Feliciano came back to his senses and looked to what he had created, he didn't like what he saw.

"Fratello! Nonno!" Feli called for his family, a frown marring his usually happy face as he rushed to the open doorway. "Oh pasta, this-a _really_ isn't good." He took one last glance at the painting cast in grays and blacks. "Not-a good at all..."

* * *

"FIVE MINUTES! Hurry up in there, big boys~!"

"Time to go bitches, we'll be back when it's all clear again. Up we go, shit head one and two." Louis stood with the rest of the clones, sauntering over to Matthew and Gilbert. "We need to take you back before the almighty asshole notices."

"Chop chop, lollipops!" Oliver crowed, pulling on Arthur and Francis.

"Franklin?" Oliver turned to the other. Franklin grunted a reply. "Be a dear and pick up the sticks!" Oliver smiled in a way that booked for _no_ arguments. Franklin silently gathered the lights and shoved them under the hoodie he wore, plunging the cell in darkness yet again.

* * *

Winter cast his glance out his window, peering at the small, underdeveloped city. A slight empty smile tugged at the edges of his lips as his fingers steepled under his chin. He watched his subjects move from place to place as they should and kept a weary eye on the small stone building that held his most precious prisoners. His gaze then moved to the large, heavily guarded stone and barbed-wire fence. His small, malicious smile turned evilly gleeful as he looked to the words printed everywhere on the walls in every language.

"Work makes you free."

He gave a bitter laugh. The forbidden phrase was too much to pass up. But on to more pressing matters... Winter turned to the paperwork still littering his desk, he took the papers and shuffled them until they lay perfectly straight and organized. After having this done, he pulled out one of his personal handguns and began cleaning it. He took a long time making sure that every inch of metal was properly cleaned and shined, until he noticed the glint reflecting of the shiny metal from the now setting sun. He glanced up and looked out at his little village again. He smiled sardonically.

"Sweet dreams my little pets..."

* * *

Song: Sweet Dreams version by Emily Browning (From the movie Sucker Punch)

Okay, a few things to be said...

Firstly, "Work makes you free." I'm sorry if this offends anyone, but this is Winter we're talking about... and we all know what a sick and twisted man he is in this story... If you don't know what I'm talking about... go look it up!

Secondly, I'm sorry this took me so long, and that it's short... But I _did_ warn you. School, ya know? I'll be EVEN BUSIER now that I have clubs starting up and I'll probably be getting a job. Drama club, ITS, and FBLA. Joy. Plus, I'll HAVE to get a job because I have to raise 300$ by the end of the school year to help pay for a trip to Chicago I REALLY REALLY want to go on. Which begs to question, any of you guys know some creative ways to make some cash? Like, I'm already thinking about writing and selling love poems to people for their significant other. Stuff like that. I'm up for anything! Short of selling my body!(That suggestion was already vetoed on account of all the good street corners were already taken. xD)

Thirdly, THANK YOU ALL FOR PUTTING UP WITH ME~! I love you guys and I hope you liked this chapter~! *bows* Please bare with me as I contiue this story! Your patience is very much appreciated!

With love,

Gilly B.


	17. Ice Queen

:D Short chapter is short... But. Meh. I have plans. Evil, dastardly plans! MWAHAHAHA~!

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Hetalia, blah, blah, blah...

WARNINGS: Cursing...

* * *

"_Mein Gott..._"

"Ve, What is it Luddi?" Feliciano timidly looked to his German friend to find out what had pulled such a phrase from the stoic man. They; Ludwig, himself, Lovino, and Lovino's friend Antonio, were camped out behind some bushes that were on the outskirts of the place they knew Winter held their friends. Feli's grandfather was busy at work trying to "rally his troops," so they would stand some semblance of a chance against the tyrant.

"It's..."

"Spit it out already, potato bastard!"

Ludwig turned to the group with wide eyes. He merely pointed in the direction over the bushes and sat while the others popped up to take a look.

Ludwig sank down onto the grass. "Work makes you free." He mumbled under his breath, the words sending shivers down his spine, even in English. There was an immense feeling of guilt and pain welling up in his heart. "Arbeit macht frei..." The words that still stood guard in the rubble to stand as a reminder of the atrocities his people had done. His grandfather had been a Nazi. His family, his grandfather, was guilty, not him. So why did those words still strike fear and pain and regret? Why did he feel so damn horrible? He shook himself of his current thoughts and took a calming breath.

"No..." Ludwig turned at the uncharacteristically soft whisper from Lovino.

"Si." Antonio looked back at the German still slumped on the ground, a hard and desperate glint in his eyes. "Luddy, mi amigo, what are we gonna do?"

Ludwig didn't answer at first. He rose from his knees and joined the others at the bushes edge again. Mouth set in a hard line and expression giving no mercy, his hardened eyes scanned over the hellhole yet again.

On first glance it looked like a small Amish type village. They weren't too uncommon in rural America. Old fashioned and wooden, surrounded by woods, with happy villagers milling about. But when you looked a bit deeper, you could plainly see the hard concrete wall rising above the tree line with sharp, barbed-wire edges. The trees, in fact, were painted on, the environment oppressively fake and controlled. The houses had bars on their windows and armed guards at every door. There were occasional bloodstains splattered across a wall or staining the ground. In black letters, swirling around on the background and covering every flat surface, lay the message. The message of false promises and death. The villagers weren't smiling.

"Keine Ahnung..." Ludwig hoarsely muttered back. "I do not know."

* * *

"Today is your lucky day, poppets!" Oliver trilled to Ivan and Alfred who where cuddled up in a corner of their cell.

"The hell are you talking about?" Alfred croaked grumpily as he peeked open an eye from between Ivan's arms.

"You're being moved! No need to be so cranky." Oliver sighed. "I get enough of that from Jacques."

"Moved?" Alfred perked up slightly. It wasn't part of the plan, which would be a long time in acting out, but anyplace was better than this one, and from Oliver's attitude it was.

"Past' zakroi..." Ivan mumbled in his sleep, on the edge of waking up.

Oliver cocked an eyebrow in Ivan's direction but continued on. "The Master has decided to move you. You're to start working now, but you get a bed and fresh food and water!"

"Ivan, it's time to wake up." Alfred started shaking the Russian's shoulder gently, coaxing him awake. "Why's he kept us in this cell so long if he's just gonna turn us to slaves? Makes no sense."

"I haven't the slightest, poppet." Oliver shrugged. "Hurry up now, the others are being moved as well."

"Ivan, come on you big bear!" Alfred grinned as he shook Ivan with more force. "I have some delicious honey for you Winnie~!"

Ivan glared balefully at the blonde seated in his lap, mind still foggy and trying to process the English words. "You," Ivan said slowly as he began to stretch, "are not as funny as you think."

"Ah, Ivan! That's not very nice." Alfred pouted and moved off of Ivan's lap, allowing the irritated Russian man to stand.

Ivan rolled his eyes before cracking a small smile. "Ah, but you would not like me half as much if I were nice, da?"

"I guess..." Alfred sulked as they started out the cell, Oliver being thoroughly confused by the couple.

"And I thought _I_ had an odd relationship."

* * *

Natalya was sulking in the shadows.

"I found big brother. I tracked him so long. Why can I not be with big brother?"

"Because, my dear, he is worthless." Winter was very much displeased with his youngest daughter.

Natalya paced back and forth in the darker reaches of her father's office. She had been very young when she was first told of Ivan. She had had no idea that he was her brother at the time. She had only been told that he was a traitor and she was to one day track him down. And so she had.

It had been love at first sight. She had immediately taken to her older brother's looks and poise and simply everything about him. She had put off reporting back to her father for months. She couldn't bare to bring this man in, for surely it would be his death.

She had been punished, of course, when she told her father that she had fallen in love with the man she had been tracking. He had started by telling her that her love was forbidden, not just by his orders but by blood. While she had been dealing with the turmoil of loving her big brother, which she knew was wrong, he had struck her.

It had not been the first time, nor was it rare, but it caused something in her to snap. She would _love_ her big brother. She would _marry_ her big brother. She would _find_ her big brother and bring him back. So she went in search of the man for a second time. He was craftier this time around, dodging her attempts to pin him down. But she caught him.

And now her big brother was _so close_. But he was stuck in a dark cell in the camp. This was intolerable.

"He is not _worthless_, Papa! He is big brother! I _love_ big brother." Natalya hissed from the dark.

"It does not matter if you love him, he is nothing. He is to be moved, and you are _not_ to come into contact with him. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Papa." It was one order Natalya was sure not to follow.

* * *

Song: Ice Queen by Within Temptation (In honor of Miss Belarus of course~)

Filler chapter is filler chapter. Eh.

Translations:

German- Mein Gott - My God

Arbeit macht frei - Work makes you free (obviously)

Keine Ahnung - No clue

Spanish- Si - Yes

mi amigo - my friend

Russian- Past' zakroi - Shut up/it (Here's the tricky part. I have no idea if that's what it really means. I used the internets. Fix it if it's wrong?)

Allusions- Winnie: Winnie the Pooh from the Hundred Acre Woods (xD I thought it was funny...)

I shall be heading to bed now~

Hugs and kisses~ *mwah mwah*

Gilly B.


	18. You Are My Sunshine

OMG. Is this fic finally rated M? Why yes, yes it is. *blushes* Is this also the only, like, third time I've written smut? Yes. Ehh. Okay... On with the show!

Disclaimer: WABBBAHFAT!

WARNINGS: Cursing... SMUT. FINALLY.

* * *

They had been working in relative peace for days now. And it was terrifying. Constantly they lived in fear, waiting for the General to try something, _anything_. What would he do to them next? What was his plan? How could they escape? There were no answers. They toiled away in silence, nerves stretched to near breaking point as they looked over their shoulders when working the fields or shifted their eyes when milking a cow. It was strange, very strange. Their lives had changed so suddenly in such a short amount of time. Peaceful lives in the country or the city, to locked in darkness with fear as their only friend, and now this. A simple life of farming they were slowly learning how to do.

The other villagers had only looked at them with resigned sympathy as they were led out of the ominous prisons. After the group had been settled, they had come one by one to show them how to tend their garden and live off the land around them.

"It's the only way to survive. If we don't... We die. We get no help from the outside world." One of the older gentlemen informed them.

Alfred had been stunned. "What about escaping? Don't you dream of freedom?"

The man turned to him with hollow eyes and an empty smile. "There is no such thing. You can not escape."

They were adjusting to this new way of life, the slow monotony of it almost settling them. Making them believe they could simply stay like this. But there was still that spark. That hope that brought them to their senses when one of the clones snuck out to inform them that yet another part of their plan was falling into place. Soon, they might just be able to fight back. But for now, they lived in cramped quarters.

Each couple had their own room in the small cabin they all shared. Francis and Arthur had the first room on the second floor, Ivan and Alfred had the third. The room between them being a small storage closet. Gilbert and Matthew had the room on the ground floor to the right of the kitchen. The cabin was very, very small. From the front door opened up a small living room area. To the left of the door was a rickety flight of wooden stairs. Opposite of the door, across the room, was the back door that led to the garden and an outhouse. Over the door was a balcony of sorts from which the second floor was visible. On the right of the door was the kitchen and Gilbert and Matthew's room. That was it. Plus the signs that hung in every room besides the entryway. "Work Makes You Free."

It was starting to grate on their nerves, all six of them crammed together in such a small space. But, they supposed, it was better than separated in tiny cells. It also helped that they were busy much of the time. Arthur tended the garden, Matthew cooked the meals, Francis cleaned the house and ran errands around the little village, and Ivan, Alfred, and Gilbert worked the fields. More, Ivan and Alfred worked the fields and Gilbert goofed off somewhere, but no one really expected him to work anyway.

* * *

It was an unusually hot day in the fields. Alfred swept the sweat out of his eyes as he continued to stab hay with his pitchfork and heave it away. He had forgotten what he was really supposed to be doing ages ago and had just been chucking the hay in random places to look busy. He could see Ivan in the distance cutting wheat with a scythe. Alfred pouted. Why couldn't he go work over there?

Alfred jumped and violently swung around his pitchfork as he heard rustling come from the tall grass beside him.

"Who goes there?!" He shouted with narrowed eyes. Man he's always wanted to say that!

"Put it down before you hurt yourself." Came the monotone reply.

"Frank?"

"Yes."

Alfred blinked and shoved the pitchfork into the hay. "Oh... Um, well. What is it?"

"You have friends that are looking for you. We spotted them at the edge of the wall."

Alfred's eyes lit up with hope and fear at the same time. "Who? Have you talked to 'em? What're they doin' here? Wha-"

"Would you please be quite and let me answer your damn questions?"

"Sorry."

Franklin sighed from his position in the grass. It was very frustrating to deal with the obnoxious blonde sometimes.

"We have spoken with them. They will assist us in the plan. They came to help rescue you. They are; Ludwig Beilschmidt, Feliciano Vargas, Lovino Vargas, and Antonio Fernandez Carriedo."

Alfred hummed in thought as he leaned against the grounded pitchfork. "Feli musta seen us in one of his pictures." Alfred smiled. "Awesome-sauce."

Franklin rolled his eyes and was about to retreat into the grass when Alfred called out.

"Hey, Frank?" Franklin turned back and parted the grass slightly to look at the questioning blonde.

"Yes?"

Alfred stared for a little bit, and uncharacteristically contemplative look across his face. He frowned before turning back to his work with the hay. "I still don't get it."

"What is it that you do not understand?" Franklin was vaguely curious at this point. What was bothering the American so?

"Why ya'll are doing this." There was tension in his voice, and unspoken words. _Because you're a creation from him. Evil. Right?_

Franklin narrowed his eyes at the blonde's back. He understood quite clearly what Alfred was getting at.

"Not everything is black and white. We are just that shade of gray that is a bit too dark for most." Franklin pulled back into the grass. "One day you will have to wake up and realize that the world is not as altruistic as you think it is. It is not all villains versus heroes, Alfred."

Alfred continued to shovel hay here and there.

* * *

They were alone in the house for once, enjoying the silence. Ivan and Alfred were curled up on the lumpy couch in the living room couch together, just cuddling for once. Alfred sighed, his arm thrown over Ivan's chest and head tucked under Ivan's chin. He didn't look it, but the man was damn comfy to cuddle with.

"A gangster for Grandpa Rome?" Alfred was curious. He and Ivan definitely liked each other, were sexually drawn to each other, but they didn't know much about the other.

"Da. As you know, my father, General Winter, is not a very nice man."

Alfred snorted, "Understatement of the century, big guy."

Ivan chuckled a bit, "Da, and you can imagine how hard it was to run away. But I did. I escaped and for years I nearly starved on the streets. I was very lucky when I ran into Boss Vargas himself."

Alfred looked up, "Really? Just out on the street?"

Ivan nodded. "He gave me food and place to sleep. I repaid him by working for him. How do you know him?"

"Woah, long story, bro. Let's just say that I met him through his grandsons, Feli and Lovi."

"How did you meet them?"

"Gosh! You just wanna know everything!"

Ivan smirked and a certain idea popped into his head. "Perhaps, not everything all at once."

"Oh?" Alfred twisted around on Ivan's lap.

"Hmm, perhaps we should make better use of quiet time?" Ivan's eyes darkened as his grin turned almost predatory.

"And whaddya think we should do, big bear?" Alfred knew exactly what the other was implying but was more hesitant, this wasn't like last time where it was the heat of the moment. He was incredibly nervous.

"Pick up where we last left off, da?"

"Ivan..." Alfred trailed off, pulling away from the Russian. He wrapped his arms self-consciously around himself. All his insecurities came rushing back all at once. He had almost forgotten about them after all the time stuck in the jail cell with nothing but darkness and Ivan. Almost. He shivered and gazed up at the windows high above, crossed boards of wood only allowing small triangles of light to filter in. The light was still surreal looking in contrast to the darkness. He couldn't look Ivan in the eyes.

"Fredka?" Thoughts of desire disappeared as Ivan found himself looking at that small, scared version of Alfred yet again. The same one he had met on that first taxi ride, on the couch after the nightmare. "Tell me what is wrong."

Alfred tensed and kept his gaze away. "It's stupid."

Ivan turned him back around so they were face to face. Violet searched down cast eyes of blue. The Russian slowly lifted his hand and cupped Alfred's cheek. Alfred leaned into it. "Tell me what is wrong." Ivan ordered more forcefully this time.

"I-I... It's stupid! I shouldn't feel this way!" Tears of frustration were beginning to gather at the edges of Alfred's eyes. "There's so much else going on and I... I...!"

"What is it, Fredka? Tell me." Ivan gently rubbed the tears away with his thumbs.

"I..." Alfred's voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. "I feel lonely."

"Lonely?" Ivan was taken by surprise but he tried not to let it show in his voice.

Alfred nodded. "I feel... I've always kind of felt... like... nobody likes me." Alfred pulled in a small shuddering gasp as the words finally made themselves known outside his head. Alfred's arms tightened around his torso.

"What makes you fell this way?" Ivan moved his arms to wrap around the blonde, pulling him closer until he rested against the Russian more comfortably. Alfred tensed again before relaxing on Ivan's chest, hands moving to clutch at the fabric of his shirt.

"God, you sound like a therapist."

"Fredka..."

"I know." Alfred nuzzled into Ivan until his ear rested just above the other's heart. He could hear Ivan's steady heartbeat.

"I don't know why, really. I guess... I try really hard. To smile and laugh all the time. I want to make people happy. But... I can't all the time... And sometimes I feel like I'm still not trying hard enough. I don't know what's really going on most of the time. A lot of people say I'm oblivious. And I am." Ivan snorted a bit and Alfred whacked him on the shoulder. Ivan apologized by softly running his fingers through Alfred's hair. "I'm supposed to be a hero, I'm like superman! But... I hurt someone."

Ah, they were finally coming to the root of the problem. Ivan could tell that most of Alfred's conflicted feelings stemmed from this. He might finally be able to help Alfred.

"Who did you hurt, Fredka?" Ivan spoke lowly, continuing to run his fingers through the other's silky hair.

"Mattie. I hurt Mattie." Alfred couldn't stop the tears that began to flow as he was yet again haunted by blood and snow. "It was so bad... There was so much blood. God, so much! I-I hurt him, Ivan! I hurt him real bad." Alfred curled closer to a ball, bringing his knees up to his chest and pressing his face into his hands, mindful of his glasses. "I'm a monster." Alfred murmured between soft sobs.

"No. You are not." Ivan said firmly as he pulled the slightly fogged glasses off and placed them somewhere on the other side of the couch. Alfred violently shook his head in denial. Sobs growing harder.

"You," Ivan grabbed Alfred's wrists and pulled his hands away from his face to look him in the eyes. Stern lilac met sparkling baby-blue. "Are not a monster."

Alfred opened his mouth to protest but nothing came out. Ivan shook his wrists a bit. "It was an accident, yes? An accident. You are not a monster." Ivan's eyes softened as he placed a kiss to Alfred's forehead. "These are silly thoughts. Do not think such silly things."

Something about Ivan's tone made him want to believe. There was room for no arguments with that tone. The certainty with which Ivan said it struck a chord. "I'm not... a monster?"

"You." Ivan accentuated each word with a chaste kiss. "Are. Not. A. Monster." Ivan pulled back to gaze once again into those bright pools of blue. "People love you, Fredka. It is not so hard to see."

Alfred gave a watery smile and closed his eyes to the blurry world. "Okay..."

"Okay?"

"Okay."

"Good, because I wish to ravish your body now, da?" Ivan proceeded to scoop Alfred up and traverse up the creaky stairs that led to their bedroom.

"I-Ivan! What the hell?!" Alfred flailed a bit as he was carried bridal style away from the living room.

Ivan simply chuckled. "We should make good use of this alone time, yes? Sex is good use of time."

"Ivan!" Alfred blushed bright red but gave up struggling. The way Ivan could just pick him up like it was nothing was kind of turning him on actually...

Ivan laughed as he pushed open the door with his foot and closed it behind him. He grinned hungrily as he all but tossed the American on to the bed. Alfred bit his lip and clutched the bedsheets as Ivan settled on top of him, kissing him hard. Alfred let out a small moan as Ivan licked at his lips, warm tongue seeking entrance which was given. The warm wet heat of tongue sliding against tongue, exploring and battling, soon made each of them breathless. Ivan pulled away and smirked at the blushing, panting mess he'd turned Alfred into. He brought a hand up to his mouth and removed his gloves with his teeth. Alfred gazed up at the action through half lidded eyes darkened with desire.

"I-Ivan..."

Ivan began nuzzling the other's neck, placing soft kisses along his jaw. "Da?"

"I've... nnn... I've never done... this before." Alfred gasped as Ivan gently bit down on his skin before licking and sucking the bruised area.

"Do not worry, I will take care of you, moi podsolnechnik." Ivan continued kissing around Alfred's neck as his hands sought out the buttons on Alfred's shirt, undoing them one by one. Ivan ran his hands over as much beautiful sun-kissed skin as he could find. He enjoyed the feel of heated skin beneath his cold fingers before his kisses followed.

"Nnn..." Alfred moaned as Ivan's kisses trailed lower and lower. Ivan chuckled as his hands worked on Alfred's pants. He gave a kiss to Alfred's bellybutton.

"That tickles." Alfred tugged at Ivan's scarf to bring him back up after the other had removed his jeans.

"Does it now?" Ivan questioned as he pecked the other on the lips before Alfred's hands burrowed into his hair.

"Mmhmm." Alfred hummed an affirmative as he brought the Russian into another hard kiss. The room was beginning to grow unbearably hot. Alfred wrapped his legs around Ivan's waist, bringing their clothed erections closer. Ivan broke the kiss with a low moan at the sensation. Alfred looked down to notice that Ivan had yet to remove any of his own clothing. "Not fair..." he mumbled. "Take it off."

Ivan smirked as he rocked back and began to unbutton his shirt, sliding his scarf off in the process. It was terribly cold without it on and he was slightly self-conscious about the scars underneath, but he let it go. "As you wish," he purred as he unbuckled his belt. Ivan slid his jeans off and crawled back up to Alfred, who latched on to his neck. Tracing the sensitive area with his fingers and giving a sloppy kiss to each scar he found, Alfred grinned at the shudder he elicited from the other. Ivan brought the blonde into another searing open-mouthed kiss. Alfred whined as he wrapped his legs around Ivan again, this time less clothing was between them.

"So impatient."

"Sh-shut it! Nnghn!" Alfred arched up as Ivan reached around and squeezed Alfred's plump ass. Ivan chuckled. He brought three fingers up to the blondes mouth and smirked.

"Suck."

"Wh-what?!" Alfred blushed and protested as the fingers were shoved into his mouth. Ivan kissed him on the cheek as he glared.

"I do not have any lube."

Alfred's blush deepened but complied and began sucking on the digits. Ivan grinned and with one hand, began removing both of their boxers. Alfred whimpered a bit as the cool air struck his naked member. Ivan chuckled and took it into his other hand, causing the other to give a muffled moan and arch off the bed.

"Mmmnghnf!"

"It is impolite to talk with your mouth full, Fredka." Ivan set a maddeningly slow pace as he pumped the other with his free hand, thumb rubbing over the other's slit which was already dribbling with pre-cum.

"Fahuu!"

Ivan removed his fingers and gave the blonde a light peck. "Are you ready, dorogoi?" Ivan asked softly, his saliva covered hand hovering before Alfred's entrance.

Alfred nodded and squeezed his eyes shut. Ivan frowned. "I will stop if you wish me to."

"No!" Alfred opened his eyes and stared resolutely at the larger man above him. "I want this."

"As you wish," Ivan repeated. He slowly circled the hole with his digit before plunging past the tight ring of muscles. Alfred whimpered but Ivan hushed him with a gentle kiss. Alfred wriggled a bit, trying to get used to the sensation of something inside him. Ivan pulled back and pushed back in before hooking his finger in search of that one sweet spot.

"Naah! Th-There! Ivaaan!" Alfred arched up, wrapping his arms around Ivan's neck. His breath was coming in erratic pants.

Ivan nibbled on Alfred's neck and added another finger.

"Nnnn..."

After a time, Ivan added a third finger and Alfred became a writhing, panting mess under him. It was a sight to behold. Alfred whined at the loss as Ivan removed his fingers. Ivan lined up to Alfred's entrance and kissed Alfred hard to distract him. Alfred whimpered as Ivan entered as slowly and carefully as he could.

"It hurts," Alfred hissed.

"I know, Fredka, but the pain will not last long." Ivan began pumping Alfred's erection as he set a gentle pace. Soon, as the pain subsided, Alfred was moaning along with each thrust, commanding the other to go "Faster, Ivan! Harder!" Ivan complied. Each time he buried himself into that tight hot body, Ivan got closer to the edge. Each time that Ivan hit that bundle of nerves that sent him reeling, Alfred felt heat begin to pool before exploding out in burst of pleasure as he came. Ivan felt those tight wall clamp around him as Alfred reached his orgasm and Ivan gave a few shallow thrusts before following.

Both panted and simply basked in the warmth of the after-glow, limbs heavy with pleasure. Ivan swung himself over and collapsed beside his blonde lover. Alfred cuddled up to his Russian teddy-bear and sighed. He was going to be sore tomorrow, but that didn't matter right now.

"I love you, Fredka."

Alfred hummed in contentment. "Love you too, big fella."

"Promise me," Alfred whispered. "Promise me this will never end."

"I cannot promise you that," Ivan stroked Alfred's damp blonde locks. "But I _can_ promise that I will never _want_ this to end. You are my sunshine, Fredka. I will never let you go."

Alfred nodded and curled up against the bigger man. "Okay."

Ivan smiled as he pulled the covers over them both and settled down to nap in the afternoon sunlight. Alfred smiled as well and hummed a soft lullaby as they began to drift off, worries forgotten just for the moment.

_"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy, when skies are gray. You'll never know dear, how much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away."_

* * *

Song: "You Are My Sunshine" - Traditional folksong

UHMAIGUUSH U GAIS. *is still blushing* Ahhh. It kind of helps that I was listening to entirely inappropriate music while writting some of this! xD Namely "Mitternacht" by E Nomine. But that's only because I'm also pumping up for HALLOWEEN BABY! HELL YEAH! FAVORITE HOLIDAY!

*ahem*

:D

May your Halloween be filled with ghouls and spooks~!

Gilly B.


	19. Welcome To The Black Parade

Eurgh. So... THIS IS IMPORTANT. We seem to hve misunderstood each other. I had no intention of giving the story up, I was just wondering why everyone stopped replying. Don't worry, guys! I understand that everyone's busy, I was just wanting to know if that was the reason or if it was because no one reads this anymore. But... *fidget* *blushes* THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR THE REVIEWS ANYWAY. Uhm. Feedback is ALWAYS appreciated. And I made it past my midterm! Over three hours to complete, and we still don't know our grades. D: But it wasn't that hard, really! Just _long_. Anyway, Alfie, I love you and all, but I don't think I can handle learning anymore about you during colonial times.

Okay! New segment! Review replies!

Roxxanne Spinner: Lol, thank you~! Good luck with your own midterms! :D I'll try and help with writing lovely RusAme, yes?

Morning Glory: *cough* Uh... *blushes* Yes, you made me laugh, then I blushed. Ah. But... Thank you for letting me know that you're reading!

Perfect1Up: Ahaha. *pats back* It's okay, I get busy too. College course during highschool? No thank you. But I had too, sooo... Good luck being a biochem major!

Ashcola17: ...

TobiTheNinjaKitten: Oh, don't appologize dear, it's my fault for that little message. Anyway, thank you! Mmm, yes, the 2p!s as clones, yes. Well, I have a little surprise for you all with them. *wink* And don't worry, I'm not going anywhere.

Annihilare: HAHAHAHAH~!

Puppets' Master: S'okay~ I understand! Ahah, really? You Are My Sunshine was one of those songs my mom used to sing to me... Huh.

Dragon with two hearts: Well, then it means even more to me that you did~! Thank you ever so much!

America96: Do I have to tell you how much I love you? You made me giggle so hard! Don't ask me why... Anyway, good luck on your own tests! And I understand about all the work. School sucks sometimes, yeah? But, *blushes* Oh, you don't have too, but I appreciate it!

MasterxOfxDice: Oh! *fidget* Thank you kindly~ It's okay, really. *blush* I'm very glad you like my story~

Whew! ONE MORE ANNOUNCEMENT... I'm on FALL BREAK. A whole week of nothing to do makes for a bored author which makes for more updates, yeah? Hehe~

WARNINGS: Uhm, religion stuff? You'll see.

Disclaimer: My back hurts, don't make me do this.

* * *

Ivan was sitting close to the fields, slowly shucking the corn as he had been ordered to do. He did _not_ like it here, no one liked it here. When they escaped, _if_ they escaped, Ivan promised himself to never step foot on a farm again or travel to an Amish community. He was fine with the work, that was easy, and he almost liked the simplicity and the closeness it brought between the people, but they lived in fear here. Should he ever venture onto a farm after this... he'd never be able to shake off the memories of paranoia this place would undoubtedly leave him. Ivan shivered as he picked up another ear of corn.

"Mister Ivan."

Ivan whipped around to glare into the stalks of unpicked corn. He knew that voice...

"Nikolai...?"

"Da."

Ivan peered closer and could just make out the glowing yellow of the other's eyes. He then pretended to shrug and go back to work in case anyone was watching.

"What are you doing here? We have had no contact for good time."

"We're close. Very close."

"How close? I am growing tired of doing nothing, da?"

"Very close. Mister Oliver has documented the last of the evidence we need. Departure may be possible as soon as tomorrow."

"Good."

"Tell me, Mister Ivan, what do you plan to do after you are free?"

Ivan paused in his work to look back at the eyes curiously gazing at him from within the corn. He wondered why the other wished to know, and even bothered to ask.

"I do not know. I have never been truly free before."

A cool breeze wafted through, rustling the corn stalks and and bringing momentary relief to the heat. The faint sound of wind chimes and chirping birds was carried on the wind, but was covered again by the rasp of the corn losing its casing.

"Why do you wish to know?"

"To compare to my own. We are more alike than you would think, Mister Ivan."

Ivan gave a questioning hum as the wind picked up yet again, whistling through his ears and enforcing the light tinkle of delicate metal against metal. The corn was rustled together, creating a soft and shuffling opera.

"We are more than your opposites, malyenki dyevol. We are the deepest, darkest feeling you have ever felt. Loneliness, anger, depression, lust, insanity. Magnified by a thousand and personified..."

Ivan turned to question what Nikolai meant by that, but there was no longer a set of acidic yellow eyes in the corn field. Ivan hastily went back to his work.

* * *

It had been a week since Alfred had last heard from Franklin or the other clones and he and the others were starting to get worried. But there was nothing they could do, so they simply had to sit and wait and hope that nothing had gone wrong. It would be their heads if anything did.

The only news they had been receiving thus far was from Arthur's chain of fae communication. Things were still going smoothly as far as they could tell, even with the mysterious lack of contact from the clones. According to the fae, they were miles from the next actual town and they would have to trek through acres of woods to reach the next hill in which they could be picked up by the helicopter the twins would call for from their grandfather. They had gathered as much supplies as they could; blankets, food, water, weapons, anything they could get their hands on, but there was only so much they and the fae could do.

Alfred sighed as he was alone in the house today. Arthur was tending the garden and whispering with the fae, Francis was out at the small market in town, Matthew and Gilbert were who knows where, and Ivan was working somewhere in the field. Alfred had been ordered home when he twisted his ankle while picking corn. He never really liked corn in the first place.

Alfred frowned at the boredom he found himself in and limped into the kitchen. He absentmindedly pulled out drawers in the kitchen and shut them back before opening a certain drawer. He shoved aside a few random utensils before pulling out the faded and beaten pack of cards. There were few things to keep them entertained, but thankfully they had found the cards laying in the depths of the house. Oh, how lucky they could be.

Now, what could he do with them? There weren't many games to play by oneself with a pack of cards and Alfred really didn't feel like playing solitaire. Card tricks were fun and he knew plenty of them, but they were only fun when they entertained an audience. The blonde whined to himself in frustration as he awkwardly shuffled back into the living room. He sat the deck on the table and glared at them, as if they would give him the answers.

Oh! He do a reading like Arthur taught him! He could still remember most of the system and the spread was pretty easy. He had thought it really silly at first and he'd never believed in the magick Arthur always talked about, but after time and experience... He'd grown to believe. Especially after Arthur had told him his fortune and it came true. That was actually kind of scary. But Artie did magick all the time, right? Nothing to be afraid of.

Alfred plopped down on one of the lumpy couches and sighed happily as the weight was lifted from his ankle and he shifted around to prop it up. He began shuffling the cards. His heart beat a little faster in excitement. It was always fun, and a little scary, to look into the future. He hummed a bit as he split the deck in three and placed the smaller decks on the table. His picked up the first deck and shuffled before firmly thinking "past", selecting a card and laying it face down on the table. He repeated the process with the next two, replacing "past" with "present" and "future."

He pushed the remaining cards aside and focused on the three cards, the black backs of them seeming almost ominous on the light wood of the table. Now, what was it that Artie said to recite...? Oh, yeah...

"_Follow the ancient Reede ye must. In perfect Love and perfect Trust."_

Alfred flipped the first card face up. The three of spades.

"_Live ye must and let to live. Fairly take and fairly give."_

He flipped the second card. Joker. Well, damn.

"_An it harm none, so mote it be!"_

The third was flipped. Eight of hearts.

Alfred tilted his head in slight confusion as he studied the last card before going back and examining the first two.

Three of spades, a warning in confrontation. He snorted. A little to late for that, his past had _already_ come back to haunt him. What more could it do? _Dammit Al, now you've jinxed yourself._

Joker was a sign of chaos. Well, naw dip. Of course he was in a situation pf chaos! That was definitely nothing new... But this last card, his future...

Al blushed at the implications. An infinite thread of love? Really? He shook his head and gathered up the cards. He must have read them wrong or something, there was no way... Alfred heard the slow creak of the door opening and panicked. He quickly shoved the cards into the crease in the sofa, desperately hoping whoever was at the door wouldn't ask questions.

"Fredka?"

Alfred's nerves spiked and he jumped before turning a slightly guilty look to Ivan who was standing in the doorway.

"Hey, big daddy!"

Ivan paused, a little nonplussed by the entire situation. He raised a brow and Alfred only seemed to look guiltier. Ivan shut the door behind him and moved further into the room.

"Alik...?" There was a slight warning tone in Ivan's voice that made Alfred gulp.

"Ahaha," the blonde laughed nervously, "Yeah, Ivan?"

The tall Russian was silent as he tried to piece his question together. He took in the sight of the young American, his injured ankle resting on the couch, and his hand rubbing nervously at the back of his neck. His other hand was suspiciously inching toward a stray playing card and shoving it in between the couch cushions. Ivan decided not to question it and instead ask about more pressing matters.

"Big daddy?" He asked instead, not finding a proper way to phrase his question.

"Oh, ah..." Alfred laughed a little in relief. "Um, yeah," he shrugged, "big daddy."

Ivan rolled his eyes before walking over and joining his silly American on the couch, lifting his ankle and placing it on his lap.

"May I be asking _why_ there are playing cards in the sofa?"

Alfred stiffened up, not quite willing to cough up the truth before haughtily sticking his nose in the air.

"No, you may not."

Ivan narrowed his eyes. "I am asking in any case."

Alfred took up the challenge, hoping to throw Ivan off his trail. "I will not answer."

The Russian slipped on a threatening smile and placed his hand on the blonde's swollen ankle. Alfred's eyes widened.

"Oh?" Ivan looked over at Alfred in warning.

"You wouldn't dare!" Alfred was struggling to sit up and move away from the other man's grip. "Ow! The fuck?!" Ivan had pressed down on the heated skin of Alfred's ankle and began chuckling sadistically. "Kolkolkolkol..."

"You _will_ be telling me why there are cards, da?"

"Ow! Ow!" The American glared at Ivan as he continued wriggling about in a bid for freedom. "Why do you even want to know, you commie bastard?!"

"Ohhh, Fredka~," Ivan cooed. "You hurt my feelings." The Russian moved his hands from Alfred's ankle before he seriously injured it and smiled mockingly when Alfred breathed a sigh of relief. This was not over yet... He raised his hands in a threatening manner and wiggled them above Alfred's stomach, moving as if to tickle the other.

"What's your deeeeeal?" Alfred whined, scooting away from the frightening threat of the tickle monster. "You never answered me, why!" The blonde crossed his arms and pouted cutely. Ivan simply ruffled his hair and settled his smile into something softer and more genuine.

"I wish to know what is making you so nervous, podsolnechnika. I am curious why you will not tell me. I do not like secrets being kept."

Alfred flushed before caving and giving a softly huffed, "Fine."

Ivan waited patiently as the American kept his lips sealed. He waited, and waited. He tilted his head after the minutes had dragged and lifted his hands again.

"Fine! Fine! Iwastellingmyownfortuneokay?"

Ivan blinked as Alfred's words had run together and he couldn't quite wrap his head around what they were.

"What was that, dorogoi?"

"IWASTELLINGMYFORTUNE."

"Oh." The words took a few moments to separate and process. "That is possible?"

Ivan turned curious eyes to Alfred, who was blushing furiously and covering his face with his hands. It suddenly occurred to Ivan that Alfred was embarrassed. But, whatever for? There was a weak "Yeah," from between the blonde's fingers in reply to his question before Ivan pried them away from Alfred's face, placing a small kiss on each hand and giving a comforting smile. The American gave him and confused look before shaking his head and huffing, trying to force down the tiny feeling of shame. The big guy wasn't laughing at him at this point and he didn't seem like he was going to. There was no use hiding it, either. He really didn't know why he tried in the first place, it would have come up sooner or later, right? It's not like he was strictly part of any religion, and growing up with Artie gave him the tendency to lean towards magickal practices.

"I'll... I'll show you if you want..."

"Da!" Ivan smiled in eagerness, he was fascinated by the idea of his fortune being told by mere playing cards. The only thing that came to mind when he thought of fortune telling were gypsies, incense, and crystal balls, not his blonde little vixen and a pack of playing cards.

"Okay," he blushed again. "But you'll have to help me rescue all the cards from the depths of the couch monster."

* * *

"_Follow the ancient Reede ye must. In perfect Love and perfect Trust."_

Alfred flipped over the first card. King of hearts.

"_Live ye must, and let to live. Fairly take and fairly give."_

Alfred flipped over the second card. Ace of hearts. He blushed.

"_An it harm none, so mote it be!"_

The third card was flipped. Ten of spades.

"This one," Alfred pointed to the first card, "would usually mean you have authority or power in love."

Ivan stared at the cards intently. "Usually?"

The blonde nodded. "Yeah, but see here, this king is special. He's called the suicide king and since he's the first card it means you've had a tragic past. Which we already knew."

Ivan looked over at the American. "This was really told by the cards?"

"Yup." Alfred pointed to the second one. "This one... Ah, th-this means you've recently had a, uhm, triumph in love."

"Oh?" Ivan purred, chuckling at the rosy blush on the other's cheeks.

"Uh-huh!" Alfred squeaked, in a manly way of course. "And this one," he pointed to the last one, "means that some sort of confrontation you've been having will come to a conclusion."

Ivan tilted his head with a wry smile. "I am wondering what _that_ could be."

Alfred was about to say something when the door to the cabin burst open and Matthew and Gilbert tumbled in.

"It's time to go! The alarm has been sounded!"

* * *

Song: Welcome To The Black Parade by My Chemical Romance

:D Cliffhanger of doom! But get this you guys, only a few more chapters to go!

Alrighty, let's get down to the nitty-gritty, yes?

First the phrase "naw dip." Some of you may be confused. I don't really know how often it's used anywhere else, but it's used A LOT where I live in the south. It's short for "No dip, Sherlock" or "No shit, Sherlock." You can figure out what it means from there.

Second. Er- *sigh* I'm Wiccan, which isn't actually that unusual, even in the "bible belt" of America. It's my religion and I kind of resent the fact that in the anime America can't see England's "friends." I see them as a representation of magickal ability and I know for a fact that there are plenty of Wiccans in America. Lots more than you think. America is a hotsopt for magick, even. We're a melting pot of different practices. Anyway, this makes me inclined to believe that although Alfred, in this story, doesn't attach himself to a certain religion, he would have a mix of Christian and Wiccan beliefs.

Thirdly, the cards. Yes, I do this for real. The system Alfred used is astually one I came up with myself. If you want to use it and/or want to learn how to use it, just send me a pm and we'll talk~! Don't be afraid to ask!

Hope this covered all the bases... Don't be afraid to send me a pm or something if you have questions~

Gute Nacht~

Gilly B.


	20. Wretches and Kings

:D Ahaha~ Hello lovelies~! At first I wasn't too happy about this chapter. Then it got awesome. So yeah... I have a few things at the end I'd like to ask m'kay? :D Urgh. I haven't slept in days. My paranoia has kept me up lately. Kept imagining that was desk chair was going to turn animate and kill me in my sleep. Yes, it gets THAT bad. Anywho...

Review Replies~

**Annihilare:** The cards! The cards! Ahahaha~! Don't deny your DESTINY~! Heehee~ Well, then. Will this one feel longer? You weren't able to pre-read ANY of it! HAHAHA!

**Puppets' Master:** Then you're just going to _love_ this chapter~ Oh, I've said to much already~! *sigh* I know, I know. At least I'm not the ONLY one who feels that way. Woe is the way of the secret life of the witch~ Ah! We can always believe that he was pretending, no? That would actually make much more sense to me. Haha, Alfredka just wishes to _hide_ his magick~!

**TobiTheNinjaKitten:** Thank you dearie~!

**America96:** *is already giggling* Yes, really~ (Hey, at least I update often~) Haha, that's actually rather cool~ There are many more of us out there than you think *wink* In fact, I know of three others just in my school (and those are the ones "out of the broomcloset" so to speak). Well, here you are~ This is what happens! *blushes* Yes, of course you're loved~ *interweb hug* And yes, we have fall break. *grumbles* To bad it ends tomorrow.

WARNINGS: Language, 2p!s, the usual

DISCLAIMER: Myeh. I'll make my chair eat you.

* * *

"_There's a time when the operation of the machine becomes so odious, makes you so sick at heart, that you can't take part; you can't even passively take part, and you've got to put your bodies upon the gears and upon the wheels, upon the levers, upon all the apparatus, and you've got to make it stop. And you've got to indicate to the people who run it, to the people who own it, that unless you're free, the machine will be prevented from working at all."_ - Mario Savio

* * *

"It's time to go! The alarm has been sounded!"

There was a split second of complete silence as the two at the door caught their breath and the other two were simply trying to figure out what in the hell was happening. Blank. It's time to go... It's _time_ to go... _It's time to go!_

Then there was a flurry of action.

Matthew flew past the two and almost tripped over the couch, yelping out something about getting Arthur. Gilbert darted for the kitchen and began to tear open cabinets and drawers, gathering all their last minute supplies. Alfred, finally registering what was going on, leaped to his feet, only to be caught by a concerned Ivan when he stumbled from the pain shooting from his ankle.

"You will not be able to run with your ankle, dorogoi," his voice was soft, urging.

"It's just a fucking sprain! I can _do_ this," he looked up at the other, pleading, stubborn. _I'm the _hero_ dammit! _

"No," solid steel, non negotiable.

Alfred gave him an incredulous look, and was about to protest heavily when Ivan suddenly scooped him up onto his back. Ivan grunted at the weight on his back and Alfred yelped and clung to the other's neck. This wasn't happening. This wasn't happening. _How can I be so weak in a time of danger?_

"What the fuck? Put me down!" Alfred lashed out, kicking and screaming, a small child that wanted to do things on his own.

"No," Ivan was not so lenient.

"Ivan!"

"Not now."

Gilbert rushed out from the kitchen with two bags slung over his shoulder and thrust two more into Ivan's hand that wasn't supporting/holding back Alfred. The American squirmed and attempted to remove himself from Ivan's back without success.

"Ivaaan!" His childishness was beginning to show as his patience grew thin and his anger mounted.

"No."

"Fine. Then hand me the bags."

This was ridiculous, Alfred was the hero, he could handle running with a sprained ankle! Ivan was being far too stubborn, but perhaps he enjoyed the idea of being carried by his big strong Russian. Just a little, not that he'd ever admit it. Ever.

Ivan glanced up in surprise, not thinking that the obstinate blonde would have given up so easily, but passed the bags to Alfred none the less. They would talk about it later, when they weren't trying to cheat death.

Matthew and Arthur came running back in from the back door, Arthur was still covered in dirt from the garden and held a small bag in his hand with another already slung on his back. A worried frown marred his face. "Where's Francis?"

"Fuck! Pops is still in the market!" Alfred shouted from Ivan's back, anger and frustration amplifying his voice and causing Ivan to wince. Arthur cursed under his breath and was about to head for the door when a gunshot rang through the air and pierced the atmosphere. There wasn't supposed to be any gunfire. They weren't supposed to alert the guards like that! They were going to get caught, dammit! _What the hell?!_

"LET'S GO ALREADY!" The shout, surprisingly, came from Matthew, who was already leaping over the coffee table and hurtling toward the door.

"_Wait!_" Arthur hissed to get the blonde's attention, "we can't just go running out there! Not now that the guards have been alerted."

"We ain't just gonna sit here, are we? Pops is still out there!"

Gilbert frowned at the commotion going on before joining Matthew and grabbing his hand. "This is totally _not_ awesome. Ve're leaving now, und that's final." That having been said, Gilbert kicked open the door and ran out into the fray. After an impatient nudge to the side, Ivan followed with Alfred still on his back. Arthur left the house last, desperately hoping that everything would turn out okay.

The outside world had turned to a tempest. People were screaming or huddling in corners or hiding from guards, the most of whom were knocked out cold (likely from the help of the fae). It was chaos. There was a building on fire a few houses down, the flames reaching high and starting to lick at the highly flammable wooden roofs of the surrounding houses. The structure was black and thin and looked ready to collapse. Flakes of ash danced in the wind, bringing with it suffocating smoke and unbearable heat. Animals and livestock were running rampant in the streets from the panic, screeching a cacophonous mess. It was hard to breathe and even harder to think.

"WHAT NOW?!" Arthur screamed over the sound of everything falling apart, frustration evident and panic not far behind. No one could spot Francis outside. Then the voices started.

"_Over here..."_

_"Follow us..."_

_"No, this way!"_

_"Come, come."_

_"Follow! Run!"_

_"This way..."_

The whispers came from every direction, drowning out the noise and echoing around them. It was eerie, such soft whispers surrounding and blocking the screaming that they knew was still going on. Ivan took up the best fighting stance he could and Gilbert raised his fists and rose a few inches from the ground. Matthew tensed and Arthur whipped around, searching for the source.

"Calm down! It's just the fae,"Arthur rubbed his temples before looking up and snapping, "find Francis and then lead us out!"

"_Yes, fair Iggy, as you wish. Follow us..."_

A small orb of light flashed at his side, skirting away to his right before dissipating. After a few seconds it popped back up beside Arthur and faded. "Thank you kindly, Wills o' the Wisp."

"_You're very welcome, fair Iggy. Your lover is waiting for all of you at the stables..."_

"Everyone to the stables!" Arthur turned to the group and waved them over to the right on the dirt road that led towards their new destination. He began jogging away before anyone could question him. Gilbert tugged at Matthew's sleeve before lifting them both in the air, soon overtaking Arthur and whizzing away, after a small amount of time they both turned invisible. Arthur waved a hand in front of himself and grumbled in another, ancient, language. A flash of green appeared in a bubble around him and went out. He turned back to the two still lagging behind. "Find some protection!"

A thought occurred to Alfred as the group ran down the road, away from the smoke and burning air. "Wait a sec, big guy. We should lift some guns from the guards, yeah?"

"Mm, da. That is wise." Ivan hurried over to couple of down guards and quickly let Alfred down so they could collect the guns. It took a few precious seconds to tear through clothing and find the weapons. Once they were collected, Alfred hopped onto the Russian's back again and they set off, only to find that Arthur was already out of sight. Ivan picked up as much speed as he could, hoping to find them waiting at the stables.

Ivan paused mentally, but kept running, as he saw a flicker of gray in one the small alleyways between the houses he passed. Guards. "Fredka," he shouted up, "we will be having company soon. Arm yourself."

"Roger that, Big Daddy!"

"Again with the Big Daddy," Ivan mumbled as he tucked both of his arms behind Alfred's knees and concentrated solely on getting to their destination, letting the blonde take care of any threats.

Alfred gulped as he pulled the safety off on the gun and made sure he was ready to shoot if he needed to. He really didn't want to have to kill anyone. _Aim for the legs, Al. Aim for the legs. _There was a click as he cocked the gun and held it steady in both hands. He aimed.

"Halt!"

_BANG! BANG!_

One guard down. This was going to be one hell of a ride. Worries and concerns flooded Alfred's thoughts as he tried hard to concentrate on shooting. _Where's Winter? What if we don't make it out? Where the hell did Francis go? Is everyone okay? What happened to trip the alarm? What happened to the clones? __**Will any of us live to see tomorrow?**_ His breathing slowed and his eyesight zeroed in on any threat, heart beat thumping louder in his ear. Everything else was drowned out. He couldn't hear a thing but a steady _thump-thump, thump-thump_. The only thing he felt was the weight of the gun in his hand, the warmth it held both foreign and familiar, like a friend he hadn't seen in years but couldn't quite remember in the first place. The only thing Alfred could smell was sweat and stinging smoke, it never even registered. His eyes narrowed. Time slowed. A flash of gray.

_BANG!_

The gunshot rang so loudly in his ears and he watched the guard fall to the side, his knee cap full of lead and and an agonizing scream of pain on his lips. Alfred didn't want to see this, hear this, do this, but at least he wasn't dead. Nor was the guard. He could handle that.

_BANG!_

That wasn't Alfred. There was a hiss of pain and he glanced down. Blood was the only thing that filled his vision. It wasn't his. The world tilted on it's axis and Alfred felt them fall. The ground was hard and filled with gravel and dust, pain was now radiating from his back and he couldn't breathe properly. His eyes were watering and his knuckles were turning white on his grip on the gun that he refused to release. Alfred slowly pulled himself out from under Ivan, he could hear heavy footsteps in the distance and coming closer.

Ivan was still conscious, but barely. He had hit his head on the way down and the world was fuzzy around him. He watched as Alfred hovered above him, tears forming in his crystal blue eyes. He wanted so badly to raise a hand and brush the tears away. He couldn't move. There was an intense stinging, stabbing, _burning_ pain coming from his side. The bullet had grazed his side and the bleeding wouldn't stop. He was already starting to feel faint. He had to get up. He had to keep moving. He felt warm lips on his forehead and warm drops of water on his cheeks. Tears had fallen.

He had to think quick. He unwrapped Ivan's scarf from his neck, and re-wrapped it around his side, pulling it tight and praying it would staunch the flow. Ivan would kill him for this later, if they lived that long. He briefly traced his fingers along the numerous scars along the other's neck, the side wound would be yet another scar to add to the collection. The footsteps were getting closer. Alfred tensed and pulled a fist together, gathering all his strength and hoping against hope that one punch was all he needed.

"Get up. We must leave immediately."

The tension left as he lifted his head. Standing above him were his and Ivan's carbon copies. Franklin stood above him in a black leather jacket, jeans, and snake skin boots. A baseball bat riddled with sharp nails and drying blood was slung over his shoulder. Nikolai was behind him, in a long black coat, heavy military boots, and a blood red scarf, soon to match Ivan's own. He was armed with a bloody shovel.

"I don't know if I can. My ankle..."

"Do not _whine_ at me. You are perfectly capable of getting up and walking. Do it."

Alfred glared at the other before huffing and lifting himself up with his arms. He got up to his knees and pushed up with his uninjured foot. At least he could stand... _You can fucking do this, Al. Weren't you _just_ telling Ivan that? Prove it._ He winced as he put pressure on his ankle to step forward. It hurt, but it wasn't completely unbearable. He could do this, he really could. He took a few more shaky steps.

"Come on Mister Alfred, you're doing fine," Nikolai tried to encourage the other as he walked toward his copy. He slung Ivan's arm around his shoulder and heaved up. He staggered at the weight but dragged him on.

"Yeah," Alfred let out a trembling breath, "yeah." His grip on the gun tightened and his eyes met with the smoldering orange of Frank's. "Let's get going."

Franklin nodded sharply and waved Nikolai over, signaling for them to start going. Guards would be approaching soon and they really needed to leave. Before Alfred could take a step to follow he felt a hand cover his mouth and his nose was flooded with a strange scent. He watched as the others continued walking on, their backs to him. He couldn't even scream before everything went black.

* * *

"You are nothing but _dirt,_" a hiss reached Alfred's ears as he slowly came back to life. The world was groggy and he couldn't concentrate on shit. He felt like shit. He took note of everything he could. He was sitting. He wasn't dead. He didn't know where he was. He was tied down. He still wasn't dead. He head hurt like hell and so did his foot and so did his back. He couldn't see clearly. He _still _wasn't dead. The lighting was dim and there was a man standing in front of him. He was walking closer.

"How could such a _brat_ like you do so much damage in my life?" A cold hand gripped his chin and tilted it up. There was a low groan of pain that was probably from Alfred, he couldn't really tell. A sharp sting as he was slapped across the face. He whimpered but did nothing else.

"You are _insignificant_. A _dirty little __WRETCH_. I AM A _KING_. A _MASTER_. You will not live this time. You will die as you should have so many years ago."

The man turned and walked out of Alfred's line of vision. A metal door slammed shut behind him with a clang. _Well_, Alfred thought belatedly with a sort of morbid humor, _at least I found out where Winter is_._ If only I knew where _I_ was._

His head tilted back on the wooden chair and he tested his ropes weakly. He groaned again as his headache suddenly intensified. Reality hit and he rocked forward on the chair, the force of it almost sending him toppling to the floor, chair and all.

"_Fuck_."

* * *

Song: Wretches and Kings by Linkin Park

:D Pleasedontkillme~

Okay, a few things. I wanna do a special for October because I love Halloween. Unfortunately, what I have in mind is too late in initiating. Next year I'm going to do it, I swear. What am I going to do exactly? Well, I'm going to write a horror type story and starting on Oct. first next year, I'll post one chapter per day. I'll make SURE I have thirty-one chapters exactly. What I want from you guys is an opinion on which type of story I should do. I've been thinking between a Zombie story (The Walking Dead style) or a Ghost story (Paranormal Activity style). Either one will most likely be RusAme and I'm good for either one. I'll post a preview description for both on my profile like I have with my other "to be written" stories.

... That was kind of long. Mm. I hope you guys liked the chapter~

See you next time!

Gilly B.


	21. Running Up That Hill

Whew! SORRY THIS IS SO LATE! This was supposed to be finished ages ago... D: But you would not believe all the shit I have to do. Memorize lines for the ITS conference (By January), Memorize three different poems for Poetry Out Loud (by January), write a Persuasive Speech about Doomsday theories (due idk), and write a Historical Biography about P.T. Barnum (By next week). Plus all kinds of other things...

Anyway!

Disclaimer: Neh

WARNINGS: Cursing... Another one of those things you all hate~! xD

Annihilare: Dat bus. Augh. ... Here's a chapter!

A note on reviews: Anni told me that she couldn't review due to fanfic telling her that she couldn't review on the same chapter... I'm going to assume that happened to all of you? That would be my fault as I switched out the fake chapter. *rubs back of head* So umm... Yeah! If you had some questions about last chapter, just leave it in a review for this one!

Das ist okay now? :D

* * *

Horses pawed the ground in anxiety and whinnied to anyone in the area. Smoke clogged the air as it drifted in from the houses that were still ablaze, darkening the sky and stifling any lungs that attempted to breathe. Arthur glanced around wearily in search of his husband. He darted around the stables until finally spotting him already mounted on a horse with a stolen gun slung across his back. Arthur smiled in relief and raced to join Francis and saddle a steed of his own.

"Bonjour, mon lapin! What has taken you so long?" Francis said tauntingly as Arthur slung a leg over the side of a brown mare and settled on her back.

"Belt up, love. I'm not in the mood," Arthur replied with a smirk. He took some time to adjust himself before looking around and noticing that none of his children, who were supposed to have been following him, were any where in sight. He paled and nudged the mare into a trot around the stables and partway down the road. Francis, curious, followed his little husband before calling out to him. "What is the matter, mon cher?"

Arthur didn't answer in favor of shouting up into the sky, "Matthew! Gilbert! Are you still up there?"

Francis' concerned look grew grim as he realized what must have worried the other. The children. The Frenchman paled himself as it dawned on him that something must have happened to have the Brit so upset.

"Back here, Arthur!"

Both parents turned in relief to see Gilbert, who had been the one to call out, gently lowering Matthew on a gray spackled mare of his own. The German boy was still floating in the air beside the other, both now visible. Arthur, however, was still unnerved. That was one son, but where was his idiot, loud-mouthed boy? Alfred hadn't been _too _far behind him and he and Ivan should have made it here by now!

"Where's your brother?" he called to the both of them. His mare nickered gently as the two looked over to him with confused expressions.

"We thought he was with you!"

"_Dammit."_ Arthur swore softly and turned his horse around to race down the streets, looking for a familiar spot of blonde hair and the lumbering figure he was supposed to be with. He could hear Francis and Matthew galloping behind him. He stopped and his eyes widened in shock at the gruesome sight he was met with. The poor boy... Ivan was being completely supported by his clone, Nikolai, with a large bloodstain adorning his side and staining his scarf that was wrapped around his middle to stem the blood flow. His bare neck was presented to the world and Arthur grimaced at the many scars that lined his neck. It looked like he was unconscious. Arthur looked over at the other clone, Franklin, whose face was set in a foreboding frown, before looking further back... and around... to the side... _anywhere_ for Alfred. The obnoxious boy was nowhere in sight.

"Where's Alfred?" Arthur rasped out, his voice hoarse from panic and the smoke still surrounding them all, curling above their heads in a sinister manner. Franklin shook his head. Nikolai looked up, apologetically.

"We lost Mister Alfred before we even started moving. We do not know where he is," Nikolai's head dropped solemnly, "I assume the worst."

Arthur had a sharp intake of breath, causing him to cough at the cloying soot that entered his lungs. He winced and turned to make eyes contact with Francis, who looked as equally worried as he felt. Francis held a second set of reigns in his hand which he transferred to Franklin when the other approached him. Matthew did the same for Nikolai and helped heft Ivan onto the back of the same horse. There was silence as everyone settled. Arthur stared ahead bleakly as he hoped that the worst was _not_ what he thought it was. He clenched his fists around the reigns and summoned one of the fae.

"Puck!"

"_Yes, fair Iggy?"_

"Find my son."

* * *

Alfred's eyes flickered wildly about the room, trying desperately to find some semblance of an escape route, any purchase for freedom or at least a shred of hope. He was met with a suffocating darkness and a feeling of gloomy defeat. His limbs trembled at the thought that he wouldn't escape this time. There was nothing he could do. The only way out was the door. The door was locked. Beyond the door were probably lots of guards and a place unknown. Behind the door was only him. Tied to a chair with ropes he couldn't break and plunged in total darkness. He only had an approximation of where the door stood. Out of reach.

Hope was dead and Alfred was soon to join it. Then they would get Ivan... and Arthur and Francis and Matthew and Gilbert. Then they would go for the others. Ludwig, Feliciano, Lovino, and everyone that was connected to them. Tears began to form in Alfred's eyes as the thoughts swarmed his head, clouding him in thoughts of death and weakness and despair. Hopelessness.

"No..." Alfred murmured in a desperate whisper, voice keening with the oncoming tears. "No no no no..."

Alfred's wrists tugged at the ropes binding them, pulling and stretching. They didn't budge. "No." _I'm supposed to be the fucking hero! WHY CAN'T I EVER DO A SINGLE DAMN THING RIGHT?!_ He let an animalistic scream tear through his throat as he jerked at the ropes even harder in a frenzied state. _You have the power... Don't deny your strength, _a voice whispered in the back of his mind. He paused. He _did_ have the strength. He could easily snap his bindings and break down the door without a second thought. Escape was possible. Attempts were no longer futile. He paused again. _The strength is evil... It hurt Mattie. It's no good. I can't use it. I'm a monster when I use it. _

Alfred slumped in his chair, his brain hurting from all the stress and odd thoughts whirring around in his mind. He groaned and shut his eyes. He could escape and at the same time he couldn't.

"_You are not a monster._" Ivan's voice echoed around him as the memory soothed his troubled thoughts. His wrists were once again tugging at the bonds as his confidence was lifted.

"_You. Are. Not. A. Monster._"

Adrenaline started to pump through his veins and the room grew sharper and his thoughts more lucid. As the fog was lifted, Alfred realized that his brain had still been addled by whatever Winter had drugged him with. Alfred grinned as he felt power surge through his body and he finally heard the satisfying snap that accompanied his wrists being freed. He rubbed at the redness from the ropes and shook his head at his previous notions. Now that he was thinking clearly, his options seemed stupidly obvious. _Even if using my strength really _did_ turn me into a monster... I wouldn't care so long as I saved my family._

Alfred's smirk grew wider as he kicked the door down with a loud _BAM!_ scaring the guards on the other side. A few swings of his fists and they were down for the count. The alarm bells were like music to his ears. _Besides, I'm like fuckin' Superman now, baby! _He chuckled as more guards rushed towards him, each one biting the dust as soon as they made contact with his fists.

Alfred's breathing was coming in harsh pants now as he looked around. He was standing at the end of a long hallway, decorated in brown carpeting and bland tan walls. It was disconcerting in the way it looked like any normal office building. There was a window at the end of the hall which turned and continued to either side. Alfred dashed to the window, wanting to find out, at least partially, where he was. He stopped at the sight that met his eyes. He was some fifty? sixty? feet off the ground, and looking down upon the tiny village he had previously been in.

"Shit."

There was a sudden _thump_ down the hall to his left and he jumped and turned toward the source. Guards. He turned to his right when there was a second _thump_ on his other side. More guards. The only way clear was back down the hallway that lead to his prison. Or out the window.

"Double shit."

* * *

Tense silence filled the air like a heavy, itchy blanket as the minutes ticked by. Smoke continued to swirl around them and cloud their vision, bringing with it intense heat and stinging embers that flitted about like corrupted snowflakes. Francis coughed as the smog traveled into his lungs and stung his eyes, this was a very unpleasant way to escape.

With each moment in the standstill, Arthur's grip on the reigns tightened and Franklin's frown grew sharper. Each seemed so close to snapping. Arthur refused to budge until word had been sent back. He would never abandon one of his children. Franklin wanted nothing more than to leave them _all_ behind and run from this hell. They needed to leave. However cruel it was, his copy would simply have to fend for himself.

"Mon cher," Francis began pleadingly, "we can not stay for much longer."

Arthur's jaw clenched as he replied stiffly. "I will _not_ leave my son behind."

"We do not have time for this," hissed Franklin, urging his horse forward. "We must _go._"

"No!" Arthur turned in his saddle to glare directly at Franklin. "Don't you understand? Alfred is my _son_. Go! Leave if you must! But nothing will budge me from this spot until I know where the _bloody hell _my son is."

Franklin said nothing. He bowed his head in reluctant acceptance before crossing his arms and waiting.

Finally, after several seconds of restless movement from the horses, Puck returned with news of Alfred.

"_I have found your boy, fair Iggy. He is locked in tower yonder."_ The tiny fae pointed to the large building that loomed over the village. It was the place Winter lived. Arthur mentally cursed at the luck. The place was teeming with guards and it would be extremely difficult to find Alfred.

"Thank you, Puck."

"_You are very welcome, sir!"_ With that the fae sped off.

Arthur turned once again to the group behind him. "Let's go."

There was grumbling from Franklin and a bit from Nikolai, but both still followed and made no comment. Arthur set off in full gallop to save his little boy.

* * *

Winter watched in silence as his personal village went up in flames. He turned and chuckled as he tapped his blood-stained pipe against the window. It was so much fun to sit idly by and do nothing to stop his little prisoners' futile attempts at escape. They would never be able to leave. They could scramble and run all they wanted. He would have control of them. _Forever._ Alfred, Winter sneered at the thought of the blonde little slut, would be punished for instigating such thoughts against him. He would be strung up and made an example of. No one would think he couldn't squish a rebellion once they were rounded up after the fire and forced to watch the torture he had in store for the whore.

It was indeed quite fun to sit back and watch everything burn, especially since he knew that he was God here.

* * *

Everything came to a slamming halt as the sound of shattering glass and an agonized scream filled the slowly darkening sky. Arthur's heart nearly stopped as he immediately identified the scream as Alfred's . Everyone's head snapped to the source that was, in fact, Winter's building. A place they were quickly associating with their own personal hell.

"No!" Arthur shrieked as he gained his senses at seeing the shock of blonde hair that was his son's, plummeting to his death. Tears, which he would later contribute to smoke in his eyes, ran freely down his cheeks, smearing against the usual grime. He could only sit on his horse, far too far away, and watch in horror as Alfred fell. He could hear Francis shouting behind him as well, "Non, non, non, _NON_!" And Matthew, " NO! AL NO! DON'T!"

Gilbert, always seeming to be the one to keep a cool head in dire situations, was the first one to move. With determination set in his features, he set off at top speed. He would be damned if he let Alfred die like this.

If only he could get there in time.

* * *

Song: Running Up That Hill by Placebo

Is it worse now?

Do you want to kill me? Strangle me? Kidnap me and force me to write that next chapter faster?

Tell me all about it~

Gilly B.


	22. Sell Your Soul

HELLO~! Gonna get right down to business okay?

**91RedRoses:** Hmm, maybe he did, maybe he didn't~ And yes, that mental block was such a pain! But it's gone now! Hope you enjoy this next chapter!

**TobiTheNinjaKitten:** He's superman! Dut dah dah dah~

**Upsilon Fourty-Two: **Why, yes~ You are indeed correct! (I just can't help the need to connect since it makes since. Shakespeare and fairies are England's thing!)

**America96:** *cackles evily* MWAHAHAHA~ Sorry to keep you in such suspense~ This chapter should make it better (then worse?) ;D

**popo:** Thank you~

WARNINGS: Potty mouths and a plot twist

Disclaimer: Nay, I'm a horse.

* * *

It had been a split second decision fueled by adrenaline and stupidity. The sound of shattering glass barely registered in his ears as he punched his way through the window. It was his fight or flight instinct, and it was telling him that there was more hope of survival in jumping than in staying and delivering solid punch after solid punch until he fell over from exhaustion. Then he would have been torn to shreds. At least if he jumped he would get the chance to fly before he face-planted the cold, hard ground.

The wind whistled in his ears as he flung himself out and away. The light from the setting sun glinted off the shards of glass that joined him in his descent, casting an awe-inspiring rainbow of bright light. Alfred pulled in a deep breath as time slowed and he felt the inevitable pull of gravity forcing him down, down, down. His eyes closed in bliss as he blocked out everything besides the sensation of free-falling. It was the first time in his life he felt free. Truly _free_.

He blocked out all the thoughts of his impending doom, how his family would cry at his funeral (if they themselves could survive), how everyone would have to fight without him, and especially how he would miss Ivan, and how maybe, just maybe, Ivan would miss him too. No, he wasn't going to think of any of these things. He would simply enjoy the feel of the wind hurtling past and the taste of freedom slipping through the smoke and filling his lungs with a long-sought after sense of peace. He was in denial. He knew this. But that didn't matter. Not now of all times.

There was screaming. Someone was screaming. maybe it was him? He couldn't really tell. Not now of all times. The adrenaline was still pumping and his mind was both clouded and empty at the same time. Whirring and thinking a million thoughts a second and yet thinking nothing at all at the same time. It was a peaceful sort of equilibrium. Filled to the brim with uneasy denial.

There was a sudden sound beside his ear, a familiar chuckle he couldn't place at first. Now, where had he heard those annoying "kesesese"s before?

"You have really gotten yourself in some deep shit this time, you silly American. Now snap out of it so mein awesomeness can save you already."

Alfred's eyes snapped open to come quite close to with a pair of sparkling crimson demon-eyes. Gilbert. That was when Alfred realized that his body had slowed in its descent towards a splat-filled death and that Gilbert had a hold of him from under his arms and was pulling them both out of the plumet. He must have matched Alfred's speed and then snatched him up. He didn't feel any pain from impacting, and he was glad for that. It Gilbert had tried to just swoop in and catch him, the momentum would have either left some nasty bruises on the both of them, or in the worst case scenario, snapped Gilbert's arms right off and leave Alfred to continue falling.

That was when Alfred also realized something, very, very important. He was still fucking alive. _ALIVE_. As in _not dead_. Hell yeah! He was almost overcome by the euphoric feeling.

There was a large, goofy grin of relief stretched across his face as his feet touched down to the ground in the softest manner imaginable. .He then had about three seconds before he was almost smothered to death. Well, that would have been an embarrassing way to die. Survive a fall from a too-fucking-many story high building only to be crushed to death by an overprotective family. He sagged under the pressure and allowed himself to be squashed by the three different blond-headed bodies that surrounded him.

There was an audio cluster of deafening angry shouts, sobbing, berating, and unintelligible french. He basked in it before noticing that there was a fourth body missing that he really, really wanted to know was alive. He had been bleeding out the last time he saw him, after all. So, where the hell was Ivan? He mentally shook his head of these thoughts as his arms encircled his family as best as he could manage before they finally decided it was okay for him the breathe. He greedily pulled in oxygen as Arthur's yelling/sobbing began to subside, Matthew's oxymoronic death threats and hysterical reprimands started to calm down, and Francis stopped shouting in incoherent french babble. He was so glad to be alive with his family.

"Hey! Now that the "touching reunion" is over, may we _please _get back to the task at hand? Or have you all forgotten that we _are in the middle of escaping for OUR LIVES._"

The loud comment made by an irate Franklin caused the family to completely unattach themselves and sheepishly turn back to their horses that were waiting for them. Alfred's head snapped towards his clone's direction and quirked a little smirk at him before he took in the rest of the scene. His eyes widened as they landed on the horse on which Nikolai was seated and Ivan was slumped across. Ivan's breathing seemed ragged but even, he was probably still unconscious, and the blood that had covered him was now dry and caked. Alfred nearly choked in despair at the sight of Ivan's precious scarf ruined and soaked in vermillion blood. That scarf would never be the same.

"Well," Franklin testily snapped Alfred from his daze, "now that _you _are safe," he glared in Alfred's direction, "we can move on and get that fucking bastard arrested."

They all nodded in response, no one bothering to fill the determined silence. There was nothing to say. They all climbed up onto their respective steeds, Alfred joining Franklin after an impatient gesture from the clone, and Gilbert simply hovering in the air. All they needed to do now was find the others and get the hell out of dodge. They would have to battle the guards, pick up more weapons on the run, search for others, avoid catching too much of Winter's attention, and then escape from a burning village. They could make it. Hopefully.

* * *

Toris was afraid. More afraid than he had ever been in his entire life. And let me tell you, he had a penchant for for being terrified a good majority of the time. But this was different. He had never seen his Master so imbalanced. He had never seen his Master so close to snapping. Winter was always cold, cruel, and efficient. He never smiled, unless it was hard and empty, not even for his daughter Natalya, whom was his favorite, and he always had a firm, frightening grip on his emotions and actions. But this was different. So different that it was starting to scare the hell out of Toris. He didn't think he'd be able to handle any more of this. And then guess what? Life had thrown him down another pit, and this one was likely to have spikes at the bottom. Life was laughing at him right now, he could feel it. Toris had long since given up hope with any type of God, but if any of them were up there, they had a sick sense of humor that was deeply unappreciated.

He'd always had the short end of the stick, no matter how many ways he looked at it. He used to be an optimist at heart. Now? He had no reason to believe in God and he had no reason to believe in any sort of hope. He was just really, really unfortunate. He had worked in a nice big company in a nice big town in his home country of Lithuania, but after being transferred to New York of all places, any sort of luck he had had gone down the drain. His job had been nice but monotonous. He hadn't wanted anything more out of life but his little desk job in a boring old office. Really. Then life decided that, apparently, that wasn't entertaining enough.

He was a worry-wort and his nerves couldn't handle much out of the ordinary, so after being thrust into a foreign place with a poor grasp of the English language and a horrible sense of direction, he was more than apt to have mental breakdowns (and often). So they fired him. Just tossed him out on the street and told him to _deal with it. _He'd almost had a heart attack. Really.

So he ended up homeless. In New York. Without any money. And, well a better handle on English but a still very heavy accent. He was surprised, now that he looked back on those days of roaming the streets, that he had lasted as long as he did without getting shanked in a dark alley somewhere and left for dead. He had been dirty, poor, and starving when Winter had found him. He had dared to beg the other man for spare change when Winter had just raised a brow, calculating gleam in his eye, and snatched him up and thrown him into a car (he, to this day, doesn't know where that car came from since Winter had simply been walking down the street). Toris had been terrified. He had actually fainted in the vehicle from all the stress. When he's come to, Winter had offered him a job as an assistant. he had been _so_relieved. And he, being the innocent little man that he was, had accepted the offer wholeheartedly without so much as a suspicious glance.

Oh how he regretted that deeply. Very, very, deeply. He was now a lesser demon working in the bowels of hell for the Master Devil himself. Life was having a grand time wherever it was, likely eating popcorn as it watched and laughing at his expense. At this point, Life could go to hell for all he cared.

But now was not the time to mope about the past. No, now was the time to worry about the future, or his lack there of. There was no doubt in his mind that his Master was going to brutally murder him after delivering the news that he had been oh so fortunate to be told to give. This was not going to be good. Not at all.

Toris gave a tentative knock on the cold, hard wood of the door that still separated him from his certain doom. His hand was already shaking uncontrollably.

"Get in here, Toris."

The harsh, slightly hissed tone of his Master's voice caused Toris to shudder and release a small whimper of fear. He had never heard Winter sound so angry, or deranged. The words themselves were also off. Where was the formality? Master was always one for formalities, _Always._The fact that he had dropped them, plus the tone of voice, plus just everything else that was going on, was sending _all _the alarms bells in Toris' mind to go off. And there were a lot. Not good, not good, not good.

He shut his eyes tight, as if he were about to take a dive off an airplane without a parachute and holding a stick of dynamite, and he quickly turned the knob, opened the door and rushed inside, gently closing it behind him as he did so. His hand was still clutching the know in a death grip. He did not pause, nor did he open his eyes as he hurriedly informed his Master the dreadful news.

"They're all escaping, Sir."

He waited in the following sinister silence. And waited. He could feel the cold sweat dripping down his neck and he could hear his own heartbeat thumping painfully loud and obtrusive. It sped up significantly as he listened to Winter's breathing become more ragged and harsh as he slowly worked himself up into a frenzied rage. And he waited. It was only a matter of time before the volcano exploded, and then surely he would be swept up in the rushing flow of molten lava.

Then... There.

Winter erupted in an ear-shattering roar of pure contempt and overzealous rage. It was all Toris could do not to faint, let alone give in to cowering against the door and whimpering like a kicked puppy. And this was only the sound. Not once had he opened his eyes since he had entered the room and he had no idea what could be happening around him, silently. For all he knew, Winter could be pulling a gun and be about to blow his brains out, and he wouldn't be able to hear it over the screaming. He could be on the brink of death and he wouldn't know it. Death was almost a welcome alternative at this point.

He was startled out of his thought when the yelling stopped. Admittedly, in reality it hadn't lasted more than a few seconds, but it had seemed like a very scary lifetime to Toris. Then, he was further startled when Winter spoke with a calm, albeit hoarse, measured tone of voice.

"Release them."

_B-But Sir! _Toris wanted to protest. _They've been under lock and key since they were created! They're too unstable! THEY COULD KILL US ALL! _The argument was being screamed in his mind, but his lips remained sealed tight. He didn't say a word. He _couldn't _say a word. His eyelids merely snapped open widened, his pupil dilating in fear. This could be even worse than any death Winter himself could concoct. The twins... The twins were their most deadly experiment. he nodded slowly at his Master, still trying to grasp what he had just been ordered.

"_Go _Toris."

"Y-y-yes, S-sir!"

And with that, he left.

* * *

"Fratelloooo~!" sang an annoyingly cheery voice, piercing the solitude the other man in the small cell they shared had been hoping to keep.

"What the fuck do you want, sparkly shit-head?" glowing, volatile green eyes were the only things lighting up the pitch black room and they flicked over to the source of the obnoxious voice, meeting with another pair of glowing eyes, this time a vibrant magenta.

"You don't-a have to be so mean!" the voice chided, before suddenly squealing in such a high pitch it would make a dog cringe. "Fiorello! THEY'RE GOING TO LET US OUT!"

"FUCK! I'm right here, Lorenzo! Don't fucking burst my eardrums or I'll slit your stupid ass throat!"

"Tut tut, Fratello! Do I have to repeat myself?" the voice dropped and there was a pause filled with sinister intent. "They're going to let us _out_."

"Yeah?" the other voice groused. "And how the fuck would you even know that?"

"Fio~" Lorenzo purred, "the nice guard outside gave me some chalk of course!"

There was silence as the information sunk in, then a low, villainous chuckle permeated throughout the small cell. "How much, before you ran out of chalk?"

"Just our release. Nothing to decide any battles or anything."

"Too fucking bad," there was a sigh before they heard the jingling of keys from the other side of the heavy metal door that locked them in their chamber.

"I think you should give the nice guard a reward when we get out, Fratello."

Neon green eyes shut for a moment before opening back up and nodding. Before anything else could be said, the doors to the cell finally opened, revealing a blank faced guard and trembling, nervous man standing beside him. Light poured in and the twins had to shield their eyes from it before they adjusted. Fiorello hissed and Lorenzo just giggled. Lorenzo jumped up and skipped over to the shaking man, taking his hand and saying, "Ciao Mister Toris! Let's go! C'mon Fio!" Lorenzo then happily ran off, dragging the poor Lithuanian guy with him. Fiorello followed at a slower pace, crossing his arms scowling. He waited until he heard the door of the cell slam shut before turning back to face the guard in the cramped hallway.

An evil smirk made its way onto his face as he stretched out a hand, palm facing out, in the confused man's direction. It grew wider as his outspread fingers slowly began to curl into a fist, the man's body slowly crumpling in on itself with the motion. When his fingers finally formed a tight-clenched fist, the guard's body was collapsed so far and so small it simply ceased to exist.

Fiorello then turned and calmly quickened his pace to join his brother.

* * *

"Luddy!" the stoic German could hear the Italian's voice call up to him as he was pulling himself further up the rope that he, the twins, and Antonio were attached to. The rope itself was dangling off the side of a humongous, blank gray wall.

"Was ist es, Feli?" he shouted back.

"I'm tireeeeed, Luddy!" the whine made him desperately want to plug his ears, "Can't we take a break and have some pasta?"

"No! You idiota! We're climbing a fucking WALL!"

"Now, now, Lovi. You don't have to be so mean your brother. I think you need a hug."

"SHUT YOUR MOUTH YOU STUPIDHEAD."

"Oh, Lovi! That's the cutest insult you've ever called me!"

"Ve! I just want some pasta!"

Ludwig's eyebrow twitched in irritation as he listened to the moronic banter going on below him before he finally snapped.

"VILL YOU ALL JUST SHUT UP?! VE ARE ON A MISSION!"

The climb was silent after that outburst as none of the others wanted to be yelled at again. It was scary! There was still the occasional grumble from Lovino and a few soft whines for pasta from Feliciano, but Ludwig appreciated the rare quiet. At least, until they finally touched down on the ground on the inside of the wall.

Feli gasped as his vision suddenly tilted and all he could see was a white film as he went into a familiar trance. Everyone turned in that instant to see that Feliciano had fallen to his knees in the dirt and was staring at nothing. Feli was stunned in the moments before the film began to play, he hadn't been thinking of anything specific, so he had no idea where this sudden vision came from. Perhaps it was fate?

He was handed a stick and his hand was guided to begin drawing in the loose dirt. Then the vision took over and the movie started to reel. He was thankful for the easily found stick as whenever he had these visions and he was away from any art supplies he could be stuck in a light trance for hours, the movie refusing to start until he could sketch it out. Those close to him had quickly learned to improvise.

The stick swept through the dirt and quickly started grooving designs into the ground, revealing the future. This went on for several seconds before it stopped.

His eyes snapped open and a gasp escaped his lips as the picture presented itself to them all. There, clear as day, was the image of a broken Francis, dead, and being cradled in a softly sobbing Arthur's arms as a large wall was beginning to collapse in the background.

* * *

Song: Sell Your Soul by Hollywood Undead

M'kay, first! Trust me. Really, if any main characters were really going to die I would have posted a warning in the summary of the story. So don't freak out. Can't tell you much more or else it's ruin it.

Second! SCHOOL IS OUT FOR BREAK~! (as it has been for about a week now, ahehheh.) That means plenty of time to write the last few chapters! (especially now that the Holidays are over for me~) ./. This was supposed to come out on Christmas. But... Best laid plans? Umm, so how have your holidays been? I had an awesomesauce solstice~ (celebrated by myself) and then a pretty cool Christmas with my family~! (tons of baking, knitting, gift, and fun times)

Third! ... There are only two more full chapters of this. *sobbing* My baby's almost over! There will be an Epilouge after that too though~! And I don't expect the length to change since I have the rest of the plot figured out. It just has to be typed~! Which brings me to my next thing... OPENOFFICE IS A JERK. I. LOST. _EVERYTHING._ PArtially why it took me so long to post this. I lost a shit ton of edited poems, my original work, and basically just my life. (I'm hoping that my back up plan works, but I haven't tested it out yet, My files _may_ be saved.) But I'm using Google Docs now. *cringe* It's a pain in the ass to transfer to fanfic. ergh.

And lastly~

Translations!

Was ist es? - What is it?

Fratello - Brother

(I think that's about it~)

Oh! One last thing! We're almost to 100 reviews~ :D FIRST ONE TO MAKE IT THERE GETS A FREE ONESHOT~

Any questions, comments, general expression of love/hate then leave me a review~

Happy Holidays!

~Gilly B.


	23. Cops and Robbers

Oh man, so much. Nnngggn, I got my kindle fire in the mail yesterday. (Distractions galore) I've been watching Sekaichi hatsukoi, No. 6, and Merlin all day. Mmm, damn I love this thing. (Is blissed out while listening to music on Sognza)

Anyway!

**TobiTheNinjaKitten:** :D They get even scarier this chapter! And yeah, Toris gets away with his lie xD (poor guy) And Feli's vision? Well... Unfortunately, that come to light next chapter~ (But don't worry, just trust me~)

**America96:** DUUUUDE~ Is this soon enough? :D Glad you trusted me enough to keep reading~

WARNINGS: xD Lots of cursing (What did you expect at this point?), and um... maybe over the top-ness? I dunno... At first I though it was, then I was like... Pff- It's fanfiction, I can do whatever I want!

DISCLAIMER: Herr Stick is not owned by me, lol.

* * *

Oh God these guys were creepy as hell. Fuck, he just cursed! Fuck, there it was again! Toris never cursed. But, really, these guys were making him nervous as all get out. He wanted to just die on the spot, sink into the ground and never have to deal with anything ever again. Especially the fucking "murder twins" that were having a one-sided argument behind him at the moment. _Oh god oh god oh god_. They were the most fearsome experiment to ever come out of Winter's labs. Except maybe Natalya, but whatever. She was a whole different type of scary. These guys... They were something. They had all the other aspects of the regular clones; opposite personality, glowing fluorescent eyes, and a little thirst for blood. But something, somehow, went wrong and they didn't end up with the powers that paralleled their original, like all the other ones did. No, they switched. Fiorello, Feliciano's clone, got Lovino's inverted power. And Lorenzo, Lovino's clone, got Feliciano's inverted power. Go figure. No one really knew why, and no one really cared. Why? Because they were fucking dangerous! Not only did they have these powers, oh no, but they were _seriously psychotic_ to boot!

They day they were created, which was a few days in between them and the others, since they were the last to be born... They had decimated everything and everyone. Thankfully, from there, Winter had deemed them too unstable and they were captured and locked away. They had been under constant surveillance since. Until his Master went freaking psycho and decided it was okay to let the little time bombs loose!

_Oh god, oh god, oh god_. They were standing right behind him and they were arguing and one of them was starting to sound _mad_. Oh, this was the end! He just knew it.

Finally, they made it out of the jail-cell building and Toris promptly turned and faced the deadliest people he had ever had to meet.

"T-These," Toris began without hesitation, leaving the others no room to talk and handing over a file filled with pictures of their escaping convicts, "are the p-p-people M-Master Winter wishes f-f-for you to capture or k-kill at any c-cost."

He then turned on his heel and fled the scene at break neck speed. However much he pleaded for death in his head, he didn't truly have a death wish.

Lorenzo turned to his brother with a smirk. "Fratello~! Does that mean that our creator wishes us to go out and play? Like normal little boys should?'

"Fuck if I know. Let's just spill some blood already. I've been _dying_ to kill something."

Lorenzo giggled. "You're silly."

"And you're loud."

Fiorello snatched the files from his brother's hand and quickly flipped through all the photos. "This guy looks like a douche, this one looks psycho, stupid, douchy, weirdo, pedo, another psycho..." With each comment, Fiorello threw the photo to the ground and continued on to the next one until he'd scanned through them all. Lorenzo simply turned his head in different directions to examine the photos after they'd fallen.

"Look, Fratello! It's us... Only backwards!"

"Yeah, I know. We're their clones."

"Oh really? Well what are we waiting for, brother? Let's go say hi!"

Fiorello dropped the rest of the pictures, even though there weren't many, and just walked over them to join his brother further away, leaving a dusty footprint on several faces. There was blank mask over his face as he strode past Lorenzo and turned back, shoving his hands into the pockets of the dirty, ragged, black jacket he had been given before being thrown in his cell so long ago, and said, "Sure, let's go say hi." He stayed back for a minute as his brother happily skipped ahead, taking in the crumpled and dirty faces marred by his footprint. He cruel snarl inched his lips upward in the mockery of a smile.

"Then we'll rip their hearts out and watch them _bleed_."

* * *

"Will you just shut the fuck up, already?! I'm not going to warn you anymore!" an enraged voice startled the group as they made their way towards the outer wall. They were taking out as many guards as they could along the way, but they had deadweight and limited weapons. They were starting to become overwhelmed by the sheer amount guards piling up and ramming into them. They needed a few reinforcements.

"But Louis!" the high-pitched whine replied, echoing from somewhere in the smoke. "I'm getting tired!"

"TOO FUCKING BAD."

"HEY!" Alfred yelled into the smoke as he picked up an unconscious guard and threw him at two other men. "STOP BICKERING AND GET OVER HERE!" He then had to lead over and cough at the smoke that had sharply invaded his lungs. Damn, shouting hurt. Distracted by the coughing fit, Alfred failed to notice the guard sneaking up behind him until Gilbert swooped down and punched the guy in the face. "Thanks," Alfred rasped out, throat still tender.

"No problem, mein awesome just can't help it." Gilbert smirked cockily before flying off and joining Matthew where he was fighting a group of men using the martial arts techniques that their old neighbor Mr. Wang had taught them (he had chosen to stay visible so his family could keep track of him). Nikolai and Franklin were helping Francis and Arthur with the horses as everyone else had moved to their feet to fight better, all of them fighting from their place in the saddle; Francis shooting with stolen guns that were occasionally thrown up to him by those on the ground, Arthur directing the fae and using magical energy to down the guards, Franklin used his powers to send a shockwave through his baseball bat that rapidly weakened his opponent's skull before smashing it easily, he was in the lead of the group and clearing a path, Nikolai was savagely using his shovel to stab at any enemy that came close (he was still protecting Ivan's prone body) and was knocking them out left and right.

Alfred quickly disarmed a guard by reaching out and grabbing his gun before he could shoot and twisted his arm around until he dropped his weapon, then he jabbed his fingers into the man's pressure point, rendering him limp. Then he lifted the man and swung him around in a circle, taking out the men around him before letting him go and letting him fly into the swarm of men and smoke. The haze cleared for a moment and he could see Louis and Fritz approaching, Louis with a hockey stick, slowing the enemy down with his powers before knocking them out, and Fritz, dancing around the guards before finding an opening and placing his hands on their head, making it heavier and then letting gravity take over to smash it into the ground.

"Glad you guys could finally make it!" Alfred greeted the two as they joined the loose circle the group made. They were slowly moving forward, step by step, in the surrounding army and clogging smoke, fighting "soldiers", battling against the poor visibility, avoiding screaming villagers that were scrambling to find a way out, and dodging burning buildings that were beginning to collapse and spread ash and smoldering debris everywhere. It was a madhouse.

"We wouldn't want to miss this little party, now would we?" Louis snarked back as he held out his palm and turned a few soldiers on slow-mo, which Fritz quickly took out. Fritz turned to Alfred for a moment, "We were busy, okay? Leave us alone about it!"

Alfred laughed. "Haha! Fine okay! Man," he turned to Louis, "he really_ is_ whiney!"

"Fuck yeah he is."

"HEY!"

"Oi! Idiotas! Hurry up already!" Alfred looked up in surprise at the new voice, recognizing it as Lovino's. There, at the edge of the man-made forest that lined the inside edge of the wall, was Lovino, Feliciano, Ludwig, and Antonio, all taking fighting stances and getting ready for the barrage of guards. Yay! Even more back up! Alfred grinned and waved at the group! "WE'LL BE RIGHT THERE!" The small caravan picked up speed.

Feliciano held back, standing behind his friends as he waved a white flag in the air, he really didn't want to fight! Thankfully, Ludwig was there to stand in front of him and protect him. He was such a nice man! Ludwig was firing bullet after bullet into the crowd, he had decided not to use his pyrokinesis considering there was enough fire spreading. Antonio was also guarding his own Italian, swinging a heavy axe at the enemy, chopping them down with a strangely bloodthirsty look in his eye. Lovino cowered behind him, peeking out sometimes to catch a soldier and send their molecules into overdrive, making them explode. The first to join them was Franklin and the rest soon followed, all of them making their way closer to the forest. Beyond the forest laid their last obstacle against freedom, then they could truly make a run for it. They were _so close._

Just as they were all about to fade into the tree-line however, a high-pitched, deranged, laugh was heard over the ring of bullets and roar of the fire.

"Buongiorno!" the escape group turned in unison to be met with another set of Italian twins. More, fucking clones. Everyone stopped as the two approached, one with a set of knives being flipped about and the other holding no visible weapon. "My name is Lorenzo," the one with no weapon and glowing, dark pink eyes, stated cheerily before gesturing to his other, more edgy looking companion, "and this is my brother, Fiorello~!"

"There's no need for introductions, Lori," the other hissed darkly, a sadistic smile spreading across his pale features, "Not when we're just going to kill them all."

Suddenly, all sounds of shooting nearby, stopped. The ensuing quiet was almost deafening, even with the blazing fire still crackling and the echo of distant shouts and shooting still muffled beyond them still ringing out.

"Oh, how nice." Oliver trilled with false cheer and breaking the impromptu calm, as he nonchalantly came trotting up on his own horse with Jacques a small distance behind, "fresh meat."

As Jacques made his way up to Oliver, those around noticed something strange trailing behind them. Guards, but not just any guards. They were walking limply and screaming bloody murder, and in some cases they were dragging themselves on the ground, moaning lowly in their throats. Most of them were also covered in blood. While everyone else was stunned, Oliver simply rocked back and forth in his saddle and cackled, pleased with his little army. He had used his powers to raise the dead.

"Mio Dio," was the dropped whisper of Fiorello as he stood back to back with his brother, he being the one to face Oliver and his hoard of the undead.

Oliver tilted his head back and laughed, long and hard with a faint tinge of hysteria. "Silly boy! _There is no God here!_"

Any and all guards that had still been standing in their little area before the forest were soon taken care of by the encroaching zombies. Lorenzo felt an involuntary shudder of fear rack his spine, which was also felt by his brother, who twisted slightly and growled in his ear, "We _will_ kill them all. Don't you fucking give up now."

Lorenzo giggled to cover up the anxiety that was crawling under his skin. "Si, Fio. I wouldn't dream of it~!"

"Good. Now go find a stick or something."

With that, Fiorello held up his hand at the closest zombie and quickly curled it into a fist. Strangely, it was messier than with regular humans; limbs popping off the torso and fetid blood splashing everywhere and brain matter sent flying, the main body being the only thing to disappear as the rest should have. Lorenzo looked over and let out a small, "Oh, ew, that's just gross." But Fiorello was already focusing on his next target, hoping to get an opening for the guards that were still alive and on his side.

While all of that was happening, Feliciano had grabbed hold of his brother's wrist and dragged him back into the forest to retreat. Lovino, in turn, had nabbed Antonio's sleeve and the three of them fell back into the foliage, making their way towards the wall. Feli didn't worry about taking Ludwig as well, the tough German man could take care of himself in battle. What they needed to concentrate on was getting to the wall and making a hole to escape through. Feliciano's back straightened with determination. No, he was _not_ running away, he was being useful for once.

Lovino had other ideas. He wanted to get the fuck out of there. Antonio was just willing to go wherever Lovino wanted him to.

* * *

Lorenzo was starting to panic. Although none of the others were willing to get close and fight because of his brother's ability, they simply stood to the side (constantly moving though, so they couldn't be targeted) or slipped off into the forest, the brothers were slowly being surrounded by Oliver's undead. And they were losing. There was nothing he could do! Sure, okay, he could plunge his hand into the approaching zombie's chest and rip out their heart, or maybe crack their skull against the ground, but... That was so totally gross! Then he spotted a blonde-haired blue-eyed cutie moving about. Not that there weren't a lot of them around. I mean, damn! And if they didn't have blue eyes, they were mostly all blonde! But back to tall pale and muscly. In one hand he had a gun, in the other... a stick.

Lorenzo needed that stick. Then maybe he could turn the tides and make them win this battle. So he turned to his twin and told him, letting them twist until Fio was facing the target before curling his fists in the direction of the zombies loitering beside the tall guy, splattering him with guts and gore. Distracting him. Lorenzo lunged, snatched the stick, and then retreated back to the relatively safe spot beside his brother. There was a slightly enraged shout of "Herr Stick!" which Lorenzo promptly ignored, and then he began to draw in the dirt.

One by one, the zombies started to explode without Fiorello's help, at a much quicker rate than he could achieve. Lorenzo smiled wildly as he picked up pace with drawing. Fiorello laughed maniacally as he joined in the zombie killing frenzy. "TRY AND TAKE US! I DARE YOU!"

Just as quickly as the explosions started, they stopped. Louis stepping forward, making the twins slow in time. The smiles on both their faces faded as they realized what was happening. They were losing again. Louis took a gun from one of the downed guards and leisurely walked up to the twins that were now moving as if stuck in a tank of molasses, slow and sluggish. This would be too easy.

"Fuck off you little punks."

Each twin received a quick bullet in the brain. As they fell to the ground, Louis turned back to the group and waved them forward into the forest.

They weren't in the clear just yet.

* * *

Winter threw his chair across the room, watching in small satisfaction as it shattered the window and plunged to the earth below. It did not keep his attention for long. Those shitty, rag-tag experiments of his were getting closer and closer to slipping through his fingers. This would not do, not at all!

He needed to do something about this, and fast. But how? The twin clones were his last resort. Winter paced his office like caged animal, feral and edgy. What else could he do? Send out Toris? He snorted. The poor man would die in an instant. No, that's not what he needed. He needed something better. Deadlier.

He had just the thing. Four soldiers this time, with their General in the lead. After all, when you wanted something done right, you had to do it yourself! He slammed open his office door and stormed down the hallway, the lights flickering ominously overhead. He turned corner after corner before reaching a certain hallway, in which he slammed his fists into the doors lining it.

"NATALYA! YEKATERINA! IRUNYA!" he bellowed, "IT'S TIME TO GO OUT AND PLAY!"

* * *

Song: Cops and Robbers by The Hoosiers (Gosh, you have NO IDEA how long it took me to settle on a song)

Mmm, kinda tired and I forgot what I was gonna put here...

Wait, yeah! Reminder- Irunya is Ukraine's clone (refer to chapter sixteen)

And... *sob* THE NEXT CHAPTER WILL BE THE LAST! (Plus the epilogue)

Nother reminder- First person to reach 100 in reviews will get a free one-shot about anything of their choosing! (even if it's like, months after this fic is complete)

Mkay, Translations and then I think that's it

Fratello - brother

Buongiorno - Good day

Mio Dio - My God

And I think that's it.

Did you guys like it? (I mean really, it's got zombies in it~!) Thought it was too much? Too little? Eagerly awaiting for more? Don't even read this anymore? Leave a review!

Love & Peace!

Gilly B.


	24. Last Words of Black and Blue

Urk. *starts sobbing*

**America96:** Myeh, yeah I know... But there IS a reason~ Promise. Mhm. That's okay, YOUR ALL CAPS REVIEWS REALLY GET MY ATTENTION. xD And Darlin, *southern drawl* Ah'm _always_ amazin~ But thanks~!

**TobiTheNinjaKitten: ***sigh* I know... But there _will_ be a pretty big fight soon. You'll just have to read~ I hope I put you at the edge of you seat with the tension~ Hope you enjoy~

Disclaimer: Nyeh.

WARNINGS: Cursing, and death. Lot's of death. (Don't worry, it's minor.)

* * *

"_TORIS_!" the cry rang through the air and scared the poor man shitless. He thought he was in the clear, but apparently his Master had other ideas. What did he want, _now?_ He had already sent out the damn _twins_for fucks sake! Surely they're all dead by now?! Oh, look at that, he's starting to get hysterical. Ahahahaha!

"_TORIS! GET THE SERUM! NOW_!"

Oh, not this again. _But Master!_ Toris desperately wanted to object. _It's not complete! The side effects could do anything! It's_ _dangerous!_But, yet again, Toris could do nothing and simply scurried into the labs, grabbed the dull brown liquid already set in a syringe, and hurried back to his Master. Well, you know what? If his Master wanted to get himself killed with this stuff then that was fine by him! He could die for all he cared! Just go and do idiotic things without discussing it with anyone! He was getting hysterical again.

Toris ran up to Winter, handed him the serum with a small bow and then ran. He just _ran_. He didn't look back to see if his Master wanted anything more. No, he was going to one of secluded rooms in this ridiculously large building and _hiding for the rest of his_ _life_. Damn the consequences!

Winter frowned as he watched his servant run off, but decided that there were more pressing matters at hand. He turned back to his daughters and stuck the needle of the syringe into his arm without care. He pushed it down, and when all the brown, toxic substance had entered his bloodstream he pulled it out and threw it to the side. The girls watched him silently, wondering what the disgusting looking liquid would do. They got no answer, as after several seconds, nothing happened. With a disappointed grunt, Winter turned his attention back to the girls.

"We need to re-capture those dirty things and put them to rest. They have committed the ultimate sin in trying to leave. They will all be put to death as punishment."

There was a tense moment of silence. A shadow fell over Irunya's face. She had hoped that the others would have been able to escape by now. Where had all the work she had put into this gone? Her hands clenched into fists, but she said nothing. Maybe- Maybe this could still work out. In the end at least.

Katyusha was near to tears at this point. Kill? She didn't want to kill! Her brother was one of the people escaping! No! And there was that nice young man that Ivan had been with. His lover, she supposed. She had been so happy when she found out that her brother had found someone to love, and yet so sad when she had to bring them in. No, she didn't want to kill the nice people!

Natalya was torn. On the one hand, she would love to let her knives loose, especially with that one man. Alfred. The whore that had stolen her brother's heart, he would have to die. But then, on the other hand, that would mean killing her brother. Her precious, precious brother. She couldn't possibly do that. Maybe if she killed everyone else, her nice Papa would let her keep Ivan as a reward? Yes, he would do that for her. And that's what she would do.

Winter watched their reactions and allowed them this small moment. From Irunya, he sensed anger and determination. Good, she would be useful like that. From Katyusha he saw tears begin to form. He sneered had her weakness. She was useless as ever. She would do well as cannon fodder. And then there was Natalya. First, hesitation, then there was resolution and glee. Perfect, as always. He turned and said, "Now we find them," and began walking. The girls followed.

* * *

Winter paused at the tree line, glaring down at the corpses of the twins. Two of his supposed greatest weapons. Gone. Now that he thought about it more clearly though, they really hadn't stood a chance in the first place. Two against how many? More than even they could take on. They were powerful, but so was the enemy. They were all his creations, after all. And he only made weapons of the highest quality. It had been a mistake to send them out alone. He would have to clean up this mess with more force. He clenched his fists and stepped over the prone and bloody bodies. The spot on his arm where he had injected himself was beginning to tingle and burn. He smiled as his boots left red footprints in the dirt behind him. Now to find the little ones that wanted to disobey.

When they found the group of escapees, they were standing around and arguing. Then he noticed the albino one, the one that could fly, was hovering at the top of the wall. Then he spotted the one with superstrength was lifting one of the horses. Winter stood in shock as he watched the blonde throw the horse up to be caught by the albino and then disappearing over the other side of the wall. He growled at the show, he had been so sure that the other had lost his use of strength. His spies had told him so! It was why he had been so certain that his plans would work! This would be problematic. At least the others were distracted with their arguing and hadn't noticed he and his daughters approaching.

He did a head count, checking who had escaped already and who was left to fight. The Vargas brats were nowhere in sight. That Spanish man he had seen was also gone, along with the German. The thing that had been his son was lying in the grass, unconscious, still. It was a wonder he hadn't died yet. He noticed two of his clones standing next to Ivan, leaning against the wall and sitting in the grass, relaxing with their eyes closed. Franklin and Nikolai. He spotted Louis and Felix being the main ones fighting, just yelling at each other. Oliver had, somehow, forced Jacques into a game of patty-cake, and both were sitting and likely waiting for their turn to be taken over the wall. He had no idea where that one kid was. That invisible one, he could be anywhere (unknown to him, Matthew was already on the other side). Now, what about the 'parents'? Ah, he spotted Kirkland and Bonnefoy up at the top of the wall. Kirkland directing the fae and Bonnefoy shooting away at the few guards still left at the top, keeping it clear for the albino to get everyone out. That would have to be changed.

Winter grinned maliciously before turning in his place behind a tree a good few feet from the scene he had just been observing. He silently gestured Natalya over, the only useful one out of all of them, and pointed up to Bonnefoy then tapped his shoulder. Natalya nodded in understanding and pulled out knife. Oh how he loved his dear little daughter, always knowing exactly what was expected of her! She was deserving of her lineage, unlike his other brats. She could have taken all of these wretches out in mere seconds had he ordered it, fortunately for them (or not, really), he wanted them all alive before he slowly tortured them all to death. He would be sure to make _good use_of his soon to be live lab rats. He would not show the same little mercy he had given them before.

He watched without pity as the small throwing knife sailed through the air and pierced the Frenchman's shoulder, causing him to cry out in pain and drop his gun. He watched as Kirkland immediately turned and ran to his injured lover, fretting over him in a sickeningly caring way. It was disgusting. He glanced at Natalya again and pointed to Kirkland then to both his legs. And again, his daughter nodded before letting her knives fly and strike. Kirkland was now the one crying out and crumbling in pain and Bonnefoy was the one worrying over the other. Both of them were soon overwhelmed by guards. Gilbert could do nothing as he was outnumbered, and every time he tried to fly in either direction over the wall the guards would relentless begin shooting.

The blonde he had been working with soon noticed the dilemma, and while visibly worried about his "parents" that were being held in place by soldiers (as per the orders Winter had sent out), he could only grimace and alert the others. Winter decided it was time to reveal his presence since they would be looking for him now. He stepped out of the shadows and his daughters followed.

Natalya stopped dead in her tracks as she saw the state of her brother in the grass. From this far away he looked dead. No, her expertly trained eye picked up the shallow movements of his chest. He was still breathing, alive. he needed to stay that way. She turned to her father and tugged on his sleeve for a moment, the escapees had yet to notice their presence. He looked over to her and she leaned up to ask him sweetly, switching to Russian to butter him up. "_Father dear, may we please keep Brother? I know you wish to punish him severely, but I want to keep him as my toy. Please? It would mean very much to me_."

Winter gave his youngest a strained smile before replying to her request, "_Of course. Whatever my Princess wishes._"

He wouldn't actually allow this, but he let the girl have her delusions for the time. If he wanted her to cooperate he would have to keep her happy, then he could lock her away until she forgave him for lying.

Natalya was ecstatic. She would have her dear Brother all to herself at last! She let go of her father's arm and uncharacteristically bounced in place like the little girl she had not truly been permitted to be. She was very happy.

Winter sneered at his overly joyful daughter before motioning Katyusha forward. "Crippling _fear_," he whispered menacingly in her ear, causing her to shiver. Then he waved a hand in the direction of the group ahead. They had _still_not noticed them yet.

Katyusha nodded and raised a shaky hand before squeezing her eyes shut and concentrating. A light sweat broke out as she exerted all of her force into the action. She felt that if she didn't she would surely die. And even if she did her very best and hardest, she would still be punished. Her father was a cruel man.

Winter gazed at his convicts with a small feeling of satisfaction as he watched them collapse from the intense emotions. The oldest girl could be useful for something he supposed. With a venomous twist of his features he slowly strolled over to the little flies caught in his spiderweb.

The blonde boy, the one that had caused him the most trouble, Alfred, had fallen to his knees and was staring blankly at the wall. His face was set in a mask of horror and pain, mouth agape and eyes wide open and dilated. Winter found it a most pleasing sight. Nikolai and Franklin were slumped against each other, faces pale and bodies shivering. Their only support being the wall they leaned on. Oliver had just stopped functioning, hands still raised in the action of playing patty-cake. Jacques had fallen over, stiff as a board, and was laying in an almost comical manner in the grass. Louis and Felix had fallen to the ground and were motionless. Oh, Winter liked this. He liked this very much. He soaked in the feeling of fear floating about. The atmosphere was thick with it.

He heard a faint crackling behind him and the smell of smoke intensified. Ah, the fire had finally reached the trees on this side of his little lab rat maze. Soon, this area would be nothing but a blazing forest fire. How fitting.

Winter turned to Alfred first, grabbing his face with rough hands he looked down at the young boy. "You will _never_be able to escape from me, little rat. You're mine."

"GET YOUR HANDS OFF OF MY SON, YOU BASTARD!"

Winter idly let go of the blonde to face Kirkland. He put his hands behind his back and looked up at the other with a blank face. "_Your_son, Arthur? I was unaware gay couples could have children."

"THAT'S NOT THIS ISSUE HERE AND YOU KNOW THAT. LEAVE HIM BE!"

"Oh? Are you going to offer yourself up instead in some cliche, martyristic gesture of love for your adopted son?" Winter placed a hand on Alfred's shoulder in clear disregard of Arthur's wishes. "That's not going to work with me, little _rat_," he spat. "You're ALL going to be under my control."

Kirkland said nothing, his face set in anger and a stream of blood running down over his forehead and onto his cheek, his arms still held back by a pair of guards. Beside him, Bonnefoy simply glared at Winter with his nose stuck up in the air in a superior manner. He would definitely have to break that snooty Frenchman's spirit first.

Winter tapped a finger against his chin before suddenly shoving Alfred into the ground. Both Bonnefoy and Kirkland cried out at the action. So they didn't like that, did they? Then he would have to do more. But just as he was about to stomp a foot onto the boy's back, he was struck down, knocked to the side by a sudden force. He looked up to spot Jacques standing above him with his ever present blank expression. His eyes flicked past the man to his daughters, only to widen at the sight of Irunya holding a gun to Katyusha's head. Damn it!

Winter climbed to his feet, staring Irunya down. Oliver was on his feet as well, Nikolai and Franklin back to looking nonchalant against the wall. Jacques was back to looking sullen and Fritz and Louis were back to arguing. Alfred was twitching and starting to come back to his senses. Winter returned to watching Irunya intently, and before anyone could move he pulled out a gun and made the shot. Irunya, who hadn't been expecting the move, released Katyusha from her hold and fired back. She missed, Winter shot again and didn't. The bullet tore through Irunya's middle, sending her doubled over to the ground. Katyusha collapsed and didn't move.

Oliver approached him with a smile. Calmly, with each step measured and hands raised as if approaching a wild animal. Winter simply raised his gun and cocked a brow. Oliver's smile widened and he dropped his hands. A shadow fell over his face as he stopped walking. He tilted his head to the side and let strands of hair fall across his face, nearly masking the vicious glint in his glowing eyes.

"Now, now poppet. Let's play nice with the other children."

Winter snorted, "What children? I only see disobedient lab rats that have tried to escape from their cage."

Oliver paused, smile never dropping. With a giggle he said, "You're a psycho, dearie."

Winter twitched his lips in a twisted smirk, "What was that? I didn't quite catch that, _rat_."

"Oh," Oliver crossed his arms across his chest, "You're just a meanie."

"What are you trying, with this?"

"Hm?" Oliver tilted his head in the other direction. "Oh, what I'm doing? Why, distracting you of course!"

Winter snapped around to catch Alfred posed to punch, fist already flying towards his stomach. He was too late to duck and was quickly sent flying. It felt like his internal organs were all collapsing at once, the agony was overwhelming. He was going to die in a few seconds, that was for certain. Then, he felt that burning tingling sensation run from his arm and down through his veins until it reached his midsection. It was the most painful and uncomfortable feeling he had ever experienced, but it vanished after a mere few seconds. He felt fine. "Ha," he let the relieved breath pass through his lips before his gaze lifted to take in the scene.

Natalya was struggling in a passive Jacques' hold as she yelled at Oliver, who was trying to converse with her. Alfred was trying to get Katyusha to snap out of whatever state she had sunk into. Franklin and Nikolai were still relaxed in their same spots, not seeming to have moved an inch. Louis and Fritz were, for some reason, making out in a disgusting manner in the grass. What the hell? He looked further up and was surprised to find that Kirkland and Bonnefoy had somehow gotten free from their captors and were fighting of the soldiers along with help from the albino, even with their injuries. Damn. But at least he was alive.

So this was a side effect of the serum? Regenerative powers? It had to be. With as strong as Alfred was, that single punch should have been enough to kill him. Yet, here he was. He would have to take the stupid little American first. No one was paying him much attention, thinking he had already been taking care of. Well, that was their mistake. Always, _always_, make sure the enemy is dead before turning your back on them.

Winter was able to, quite easily, make his way to Alfred without uttering a sound. His arms wrapped around the blonde's neck before he even had time to realize what was happening. Winter kept him in a choke hold and turned him around to face the others. "It's rude for little rats to bite their Masters you know!"

Alfred could only let out a strangled gasp as the others turned to see what was going on. Natalya let loose a happy, "Papa!" Oliver scowled and Jacques held his same composure. Nikolai and Franklin didn't move. Louis and Fritz were still ignoring the world. Kirkland was able to pause in his fighting to look over and shout for his son, "ALFRED!"

"Don't move now. I'm going to use this little rat to get the rest of the unruly pack to do as I wish._ But_," Winter smirked, "I'm not above getting rid of this trash if you make a wrong move."

"Ollie's right," Franklin shouted out, "you are a fucking psycho."

Winter said nothing to the comment and only started negotiating with Oliver to make Jacques release Natalya. While this was going on, Franklin turned to Nikolai. "Nik."

"But-"

"Try."

"Yes, Lapushka."

"Che."

Nikolai knelt down in the grass next to his clone and began to softly shake Ivan's shoulders. "Mister Ivan, you need to wake up now."

* * *

He was pain. He knew that. All of his body parts were still there. He knew that, he could feel them. In excruciating detail. The world was black all around him and he couldn't tell what was happening. He was alone? He didn't know that.

Small sparks of light danced around under his eyelids as he searched for something, anything. It was surreal, this feeling of pain radiating from an uncertain source that, although intense, was muted in whatever world he was currently in. Nothing made sense anymore. He felt something snug wrapped around him. For some reason, he sensed it was his beloved scarf. One, because he couldn't feel it around his neck and two, because something had to have been used to wrap his wound.

He knew it must be stained beyond repair from his blood. That made him sad. But, what about...? Yes, he had a faint feeling that there was something more to worry about. something of greater worth. But, what? Nothing was more dear to him than his scarf!

_"Mister Ivan."_

He felt a shake. Now was not the time! He had to figure out was this feeling meant! It was important, he knew it.

_"Mister Ivan."_

What could be more than his scarf? It was just on the edge of his awareness. He knew the answer. He knew the name. Name? It was a person. That was a start. A flash of wheat blonde hair that shined in the light of the sun, and eyes as blue as the sky that sparkled with mirth. A... Al-

_"ALFRED!"_

Ivan was jolted into the conscious world as Arthur screamed out his son's name. It was in only a couple of seconds that Ivan took in the scene and reacted.

Winter had changed position with Jacques' refusal to let his daughter go and was now holding Alfred away from his body, hands still clenched around the American's neck and ready to bring the boy to an early death. Alfred himself had been clocked against the head with Winter's gun and sent out of commision. He couldn't fight back.

"NO!"

Ivan was moving without thought. Without care. And without hindrance, even with his wounds. His hands were already reaching out towards his father before anyone could react. Alfred was released as Winter moved to defend himself, knocking Ivan's blow to the side and striking back with sudden speed. Ivan fell back as he dodged the blow and made a grab for Winter's arm. Winter snatched it back and shook him off before he was able to land a blow to Ivan's side, making the boy gasp and choke on the blood that rose to his mouth.

He growled and lunged at Winter again, his fist aimed for his former father's sneering face. He cursed himself as it was caught and twisted around, allowing Winter to hold him still.

"Your little friends will be dead soon. And it will be _all. Your. Fault._"

Ivan felt ice spread in his veins, his body temperature plummeted. No, no, no. No one was going to die. They couldn't. He was suddenly very, very cold. It spread, starting deep within the core of his heart and moved to encase him, reaching out and chilling the world. He idly noticed that his breath was now coming out wintry puffs of fog. That didn't make sense. It didn't matter though, he would not allow these people to die. They were Alfred's family, and as he had gotten to know them... They may have become his family as well. No, he simply would not allow this to continue any further. The cold swept through him in a single burst, rushing in his veins before exploding out and catching everything in the frost. He, however, was somehow safe from the blast of ice.

Winter was not so lucky. His body stiffened and froze getting so suddenly encased in ice, his body shut down. But, that tingling sensation was already starting back up again... Then it was quickly erased as Ivan shifted his legs and took their balance, sending both of them into a hard fall towards the ground. Winter shattered on impact. Ivan cursed as the slivers of ice cut into his skin and chunks dug into his back.

Winter... was dead. Just like that.

* * *

Natalya, after hearing her brother's first initial shout, had doubled her efforts to escape the Frenchman's hold. She had maneuvered her legs and was able to hit the man below the belt making him grunt and bend over, letting her loose. She did nothing to him after, though, as she was soon too wrapped up in the fight happening between her brother and her father. What would happen? She didn't want anything bad to happen to either one of them. She loved her brother more than anything, but her father... Well, he was her father. There was nothing more to be said about it.

She watched in rapt horror as her brother was caught, but was even more so terrified as her father was then trapped in a layer of ice. No. No, no, no.

She screamed, high and animalistic, when Winter was sent scattering into a thousand pieces. She snapped. Her mind went blank. The only thing she could trust anymore where her beautiful knives. She began throwing them in a wild frenzy. Striking at anything and everything.

Jacques' eyes widened for the first time in his existence, a shuddering gasp leaving his paling lips. There was a knife lodged in his chest.

"Ah." He fell to his knees as blood rushed out of the wound. His eyes glazed over as his hands, which had been brought up to clutch at his chest, were stained a brilliant crimson. It was almost amusing. This shade of red was the color of love, was it not? He didn't even know what that was.

* * *

Natalya had run out of knives and was left have a fit with herself, collapsing and pulling at her hair in agony. She was still screaming as loudly and shrilly as humanly possible. She was tearing at her self, sharp nail clawing at her body in her desperate hissy fit. She had mentally snapped and was beyond repair. Katyusha, surprisingly, was the one to crawl towards her sister and calm her down. It didn't work. Natalya's hands began to claw at her sister instead. Gouging into her skin.

Katyusha only held her close, even as Natalya was able to pull out newfound knife and plunge it into the depths of her sister's chest. Katyusha only smiled in a comforting manner, ignoring the pain, before lifting shaky hands and quickly snapping Natalya's head to the side. Tears slid down her cheeks, the smile frozen on her face as she rocked back and forth with her sister clutched in her arms and the life slowly slipped from her body. Leaving her bare and soulless. They were both gone.

* * *

Oliver panicked as he watched his Frenchman fall. No! Jacques couldn't die! He was the one thing in his life that _didn't_change! The one stability. He couldn't leave.

Oliver rushed over, ignoring the now roaring fire that had somehow snuck up on all of them during the fight. It was beginning to surround them. Oliver dropped to his knees beside Jacques and held him close.

"Stay with me, poppet."

"Oliver..."

"Jackie! You just _spoke_!"

A painful chuckle, "Oui."

"We're gonna get you all patched up, you hear me? You'll be right a rain soon, love."

"Oliver,"

"There you go again, speaking real words."

"Je ne sais pas ce qu'est l'amour, mais je pense que nous aurions pu avoir."

"Look," Oliver's voice trembled, "you just said your first full sentence! Now, we'll just have to teach you English and we might even be able to hold a conversation!"

Jacques chuckled softly as he watched Oliver cry for the first time ever. He raised a trembling hand and wiped away the falling tears. "Au revoir, mon amour."

There was silence around them as the trees continued to burn and the world stopped turning. Smoke clogged Oliver's lungs and cinders stung his eyes. He sobbed.

If Feliciano had been present to watch the scene, he would have noticed that it was the exact picture he had drawn in the dirt only hours ago.

When Oliver was done, he rose to find the others huddled together against the wall trying to avoid the raging fire. And, to top it all off, he could hear the distant stomping of feet against soil. How more guards could shove their way past the fire was beyond him. Probably some stupid thing Winter had come up with. In any case, they would have to leave soon.

"More troops are coming," he stated, voice void of emotion, "Alfred," the boy in question jumped as he was addressed, "you'll have to punch the wall."

"What?!"

"Do it."

"But- But I can't do th-"

"DO. IT."

Alfred gulped before reluctantly nodding. He pulled back a fist and prepared to release all his strength into the blow.

"Gilbert!" Oliver yelled up at the floating albino.

"Ja?"

"Be prepared to catch those two when this wall comes down!"

"Ja!"

Alfred slammed his hand against the cement. It shook, but nothing happened. Oliver narrowed his eyes before coldly ordering, "Harder."

"I can-"

"DON'T YOU DARE TELL ME THAT YOU CAN'T. YOU CAN AND WILL."

Alfred's fist flew at the wall again, this time a crack appeared. He hit again, this time with his other hand, and the crack grew into a chasm, opening up and spidering its way up to the top. Then it began to fall.

"Once more and you'll have a hole big enough to get through," Oliver turned away, "I'm going to stay here and fend off the guards."

"You'll die if you do that, old man!" Louis was the first to protest.

"I'm staying."

"No!"

"_Yes_."

"Then we will just have to stay as well."

Oliver and Franklin had a glaring contest before Oliver conceded. "Fine."

"You boys, though," Oliver turned to Alfred and Ivan, "will escape this hell. Once and for all."

A tense silence before Alfred nodded and punched the wall one last time. There was a monstrous rumble as Alfred dragged Ivan behind him as they fled. Neither looked back.

They were met with all their friends and family, who joined them in their rush to leave the hell that was slowly collapsing in on itself. As they reached the top of a nearby hill on horseback, the stopped and watched in silence as the walls fell and the fire consumed all. They mourned for the lost and prayed for the safety of those they knew were likely already gone.

With that, they turned away. There would be no going back, there would be no more hell. They were free now. Truly free.

And that was the end of that.

* * *

Songs: Black and Blue by Chris Garneau and Famous Last Words by My Chemical Romance

Oh gawd. My baby.

I'm both so PROUD and very scared. I'm really unsure about this chapter. This story in its entirety. Eh. *starts panicking* Was this any good at all? Ah... D: Myehmennya. Grah.

Anyway, translations!

I think it's just...

Lapushka - Little Paw (Russian term of endearment)

Je ne sais pas ce qu'est l'amour, mais je pense que nous aurions pu avoir - I do not know what love is, but I think we had it. (I used google trans so excuse the possible mistakes)

Au revoir, mon amour - Goodbye, my love

Nnngnn. I'm going to bed for a very long time once I'm done with this.

Oh, yes! There will be a little Epilogue soon. And then I have a little surprise... Bloopers! (And trust me, there are actually quite a few) You see, my brain likes to make up silly scenes during a serious moment, so... (Preview! The clones are sacrificed in a volcano, Ivan is big(er) creep, Alfred gets hit by a car and there are guest appearances from Mario and Luigi and the Joker!) However, this might be later than my chapters have been lately as school starts up again tuesday. :\

Alright, well...

*sniffle*

This is the end you gais!

I LOVE YOU ALL AND THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL OF THE SUPPORT AND-AND... JUST LOVE. THANK YOU SO MUCH.

Just...

Thanks. Really.

Au revoir~

Gilly B.


	25. With You I Am Home

... Fernando broke. Iamsosorrybutatleastitwasjus ttheepilougeandnottheactuall astchapter. No really, my laptop broke and it was a bitch to get anything written. And then I got Dax. Dax is my lovely new laptop that is verrrry nice. Unfortunately I was sucked into the world of Homestuck as well and... Let's just say that I haven't done ANYTHING productive for a while. Blame bellybuttonsatan. It is her fault. All satan. But, yes. I am the douche. It is me. She also got me on tumblr. (\oWo/ beautiful place, I am gingerlafey if you're curious)

Also, I'm really sorry about not answering reviews this time 'round but I'm really tired by this point and I just love you all just know that okay? Loves.

Ah, anyway! HERE IS YOUR EPILOUGE I LOVE YOU.

Disclaimer: ... I regret nothing

Warnings: lol when do I _not_ curse in a chapter

... Enjoy~

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Light and gentle flakes floated with a serene delicateness that could only be seen in snowflakes drifting from the sky on a soft winter's night. They danced in a slow frenzy, the steps of which were unknown to man. They were the only thing that moved on the outside in the night, the earth at rest as it waited patiently for spring. The moon above cast her full and steady beams down unto the white blanket that sparkled back in bright excitement. It was a perfect winter's night as the world was deep in the throes of hibernation. The surrounding pines were full with green needles and laden with heavy clumps snow, dark and glistening in the light.

In the far distance a warm yellow light, small but never wavering, peered through the bunches of trees like a beacon guiding wayward travelers to safety. The light came from a small cabin, the only one in the surrounding wilderness, nestled between the towering pines and large drifts of snow. It was a home away from home. An oasis for the young couple huddled within. They had been through too much in their short lives and were taking a well-deserved rest from their bustling lives, cuddling together under the blanket and sipping at hot cocoa and coffee respectively.

Alfred sighed gently as he snuggled closer to his big Russian lover. He was tired and Ivan made the perfect pillow/heater. Ivan tightened his grip on the other and shifted the blankets until they were closer and wrapped more securely around them. Alfred hummed in contentment. It had been months since their near-fatal escape, and winter was almost at its end. Their wounds were healing, slowly but surely, and they would be left with nothing but ugly scars. It bothered neither, though, as they still had each other and that was all they needed. Plus their "family" of course. Francis and Arthur as surrogate fathers, Matthew and Gilbert as adopted brothers, and even Don Roma as that strange but generous grandfather. The family that they had just finished visiting a few weeks ago. Everyone, and that meant _everyone_, had crowded into Arthur and Francis' home to celebrate a late Christmas and New Year together.

Arthur's brothers had been there, the twins of which had informed Ivan of the family habit to nick-name everyone after a country and had thus dubbed him Russia, because "everybody knows that the Cold War was actually just sexual tension." Arthur's eldest brother "Scotland" had brought along his lover, Yao, who in turn, had dragged his little siblings. Kiku, already being a good friend of Alfred's, Mei, just a loveable young lady there to enjoy the party, and Yong-Soo, an obnoxious boy that liked to proclaim that everything "originated in Korea!" Ludwig had politely attended bringing Feli along for the ride, who in turn brought lots of pasta and a grumpy twin brother his plus overly happy Spanish boyfriend. Francis' old friends had dropped by, Elizabeta, also Ludwig and Gilbert's adoptive mother, Roderich, a snooty aristocratic man that had often given strict piano lessons to the younger generation, Roderich's lover Vash, the overzealous lawyer, and Vash's little sister Lilli, a sweet thing that had often acted as a babysitter.

A few of Arthur's former students had also dropped by after hearing what had happened to the group. They were the only students Arthur had fully been proud of and could trust. They were the only ones he still kept in touch with after their graduation. Kasem, the Thai exchange student that was the calmest of them all, Bella, the kind young Belgian girl. Tino and Berwald stopped by, bringing a defiant, adolescent Peter former-Kirkland. Matthias had tailed the little family and had joined right after, bringing his new, reluctant husband Lukas. Lukas had also dragged his younger brother along for comfort, Emil, who also brought his own boyfriend Lee (whose origin is decidedly confusing but he just says he's from Hong Kong if he says anything at all, which is rare).

The month before, Ivan had found Toris cowering in a tree back near the place the "town" had been while he and the others searched for survivors. Toris had been terrified that Winter would come after him and would not stop quaking in fear and muttering "No, why won't you listen you crazy bastard." He had since recovered and apologized for everything he and the others had been forced to do. He and the two other lone survivors, Eduard and Raivis, had all been forgiven once they had told their heartbreaking stories. They had also found themselves in the midst of the festivities, although shakily at first.

The party had been loud, boisterous, and filled to the brim with happy guests that continuously filled the cramped little house. Even half-way through the party a rather sleepy looking Greek man with and abnormal amount of cats surrounding him had shown up on the doorstep. He had been invited in, having somehow been connected by Don Roma as the son of one of his friends. He had then been nervously approached by Kiku, having wanted to pet the copious amount of cats, and it was (adorable) history from there.

The party had gone on long into the night, everyone simply thankful to be safe and surrounded by their loved ones. There had been several hilarious moments, including but not limited too; Arthur being magicked by his faerie friends into a bunny suit, someone getting the bright idea of dressing in a Santa suit and Alfred subsequently freaking out because of past bad experiences, Lukas punching Matthias into a potted plant, Gilbert floating up to the ceiling and then crash landing on random victims, and plenty of sleeping victims that were at the mercy of those who had been to stay up. But there had also been several sobering moments, the time when everyone had been gathered around to hear the tales of what had happened first hand, the tears of those that had been in captivity that would suddenly hit with the realization that they were truly finally free, and then there were the times when feeling just had to be let out in the comfort of family and hugs were distributed all around. It had been fun, lots of baked treats (none by Arthur) and late presents from everyone, but it had ended with a warm and fuzy note and everyone had to go back to their respective homes. Ivan and Alfred had traveled out and rented a small cabin (not without some hesitation, but they didn't want to go back to the city just yet and they wished to create fonder memories inside a wooden house) for the next few weeks to relax before Alfred eventually had to re-enroll into college and get his proper education this time.

Alfred hummed again in contentment as he and Ivan watched the flickering of the fire in front of them. He would be back in school soon. He would be playing catch up with the rest of the students but he didn't really mind that. The thought of going back to New York wasn't so bleak anymore. It didn't feel like he was so alone anymore. Not now that he had Ivan. He could face anything with this man (and he had) and it wouldn't feel so hopeless.

Ivan smiled, as if sensing his thoughts, and gave a light kiss to the top of the blonde's head. Alfred chuckled and playfully slapped at the other's torso before turning to capture the other's lips in a sweet kiss. Just as he was about to return to gazing at the fire, Ivan reached out with a smirk on his lips and caught Alfred's chin before slowly running a tongue across his little vixen's lips, eliciting an embarrassed gasp that allowed him to deepen the kiss. Alfred relaxed into the kiss and began to twine his own tongue around his Ivan's. Until the doorbell rang. Alfred pulled away first with an irritated groan.

They just looked at each other as the doorbell rang again. Alfred tried to pull the puppy dog look as he pouted up at Ivan, while Ivan tried his hand at a poker face with just a raised brow. It was a very intense competition. Neither one would crack from their staring contest, even as the doorbell rang five more consecutive times, each ring more insistent and angry than the last. Ivan finally gave up with a huff and a dirty look, rolling his eyes at the triumphant blonde. He pushed himself up from their comfortable snuggle times, setting his coffee down on the table and meandered his way towards the door. He was none too happy with the sudden coldness, and communicated this to Alfred with more dirty looks. Alfred simply smiled and shooed him to the door.

"You will definitely be paying me back," Ivan told him darkly.

"Yes, dear!" Alfred replied with a tone that suggested a challenge. Ivan's eyes narrowed further. There would be hell to pay and possible steamy make-up sex. Yes.

Ivan returned his grumpy disposition to the _still_ ringing doorbell. The annoying sound it created did not help to ease his mood.

"Please to _stop pushing the buttons."_ Look at that he couldn't even get his grammar straight he was so irritated. Ivan narrowed his eyes at the door as he battled with the deadlock. The bell, at least, had ceased but that did not change his mood or the fact that the locks were stupid or that he was still dreadfully cold. Alfred would pay for this dearly. There would be no mercy. None.

Ivan was seriously contemplating hitting something when he was finally able to open the door and there was no one there. No. Just no. Ivan's mind went to complete static with irritated rage. Especially with the face full of cold breeze that smacked him with the opening of the door. Alfred took this as the cue to intervene, knowing how much Ivan hated the cold and how much of a sourpuss it made him. He came up behind him and draped a blanket over his shoulders before looking out to see what was going on. Hmm, strange that no one was there. Then he looked down.

"Oh, Ivan! Look! It's another late Christmas present. Score!" Alfred excitedly babbled as he picked the medium sized package off the ground and shoved Ivan back into the cabin, shutting the door behind him. Ivan simply slunk back off to the couch to re-warm by the fire, but not without a small amused shake of his head. How did Alfred know how to instantly lift his mood back without actually meaning too?

"Look, look, dude! The wrapping is shiny! Therefore it _must_ be awesome!" Alfred happily plopped himself next to Ivan on the couch and began looking the box all over for the card, because that was only good manners as Arthur repeatedly told him. There was no card to be found.

Alfred shrugged it off and began to dig into the shiny silver wrapping. Ivan watched curiously beside him, slowly sipping at his coffee. The childlike blonde made a soft "Aha!" sound as soon as the wrapping was completely off and the plain cardboard box underneath was torn open. Packaging peanuts flew out at a tremendous speed. Ivan was surprised that Alfred did not accidentally swallow one.

"Augh, these things. How _ever_ will I be able to find the present now!" Alfred was digging through the peanuts and dumping them on the floor, there seemed to be an impossible amount of them. "Ha!" Alfred dug his hand into the box triumphantly pulling something out besides packaging material. He was sorely disappointed however when all that came up was a post card, and from the looks of it it was from Hawaii. It had a picture of a calm blue sea and large palm trees framing it, across the clear blue sky it said _Aloha From Hawaii_! in big red letters. Alfred let out a disgruntled whine before hurriedly flipping to the back of the card to see what was going on. Ivan leaned in close to read it as well. In stilted, blocky handwriting it said this:

_"Dear Dipshits,_

_Why the fuck am I the one that has to write this? Oh yeah, everyone else is too busy being stupid asshats. This is all you're getting by the way, you little fuckers. Just a card to say, "Hey! We're still alive and living in fucking luxury now!" That. Is. It. Oh yeah, and everyone else wanted to say "Merry Christmas." Fuck, I did not want to write that. In fact... I'm done here. _

_-Adios Motherfuckers_

_PS. I really don't give a fuck."_

And that was it. There was no name or any other type of indication as to who sent the card. Although, both of them had a sneaking suspicion that they knew who it was. Alfred leaned back into the couch, not caring at all about the mess of white foam still littering the floor, a giant smile splitting his face. Ivan leaned back as well, letting the blankets fall back over the blonde and getting him to snuggle back up. It was nice to know their "friends" or whatever were still alive. Ivan also felt it was nice, but the only thought on his mind was payback.

Slowly but surely, Ivan was able to completely wrap Alfred up in the blankets without the other noticing. With an evil grin Ivan stood up from the couch and headed off to the bedroom with a sly "It is getting a bit cold in here, perhaps we should find other ways to warm up?" thrown over his shoulder to the blonde.

Alfred perked up before attempting to unravel himself from the blankets to follow after the Russian. It was not working. At all. He whined a bit as his body twisted and squirmed, trying to get the covers off. He only succeeded in upending himself from the couch with a thud. Ivan chuckled at his misfortune, watching as Alfred scrunched around on the floor like a caterpillar.

"Ivaaaaan! What the fuck!" Alfred rolled around trying in vain to blossom from his cocoon.

Ivan just laughed. Vengeance was sweet.

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Song: Home by Vanessa Carlton

*hugs and kisses*


End file.
